


Despite It All

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Business!Roman, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guess what got long, M/M, Old Friends Trope, Porn with too much plot, Sabaton as far as the ears can hear, Tow Truck Driver!Baron, Wrestle AU: Big Dog And Squirt, because I'm a sap, thirst party saturday, wrestlers without the wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Friends that fell apart through the machinations of Roman's father are reunited on the side of the road.[x-posted to Tumblr, as always]Enjoy!





	1. Ambrose Tows

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: For vivid descriptions of a common knife game (NOT knife play), brief mentions of parental manipulation and unstable parental figure(s).]

Roman felt like maybe, _perhaps_ , the universe might be laughing at him. He had been looking forward to a quiet drive, a nice relaxing shower and an early bedtime in his plush hotel room. Instead, his rental decided to perish with a _very_ final-sounding clatter. The car had slowly come to a halt and of course, of _course_ it was raining. Fucking _pouring_ , really.

 

Roman turned on his hazard lights and fought the urge to yell in frustration. The meeting today had gone well, but had been so goddamn stressful. He hated the way his dad only requested his presence when he thought a client would be difficult. Roman knew it was probably only a matter of time before the patriarch started demanding he get _hands-on_ or some shit, instead of just having him stand by the door with his sunglasses on ( _inside_ , really?), dressed in the most _severely_ tailored black suit that money could buy. Red accents, of course. He had to look _dangerous_ , after all.

 

He propped his forehead up on the steering wheel, the business card he’d found in the sun visor making its rounds back and forth between his fingers. _AMBROSE TOWS_ screamed the card, a simple picture of a tow truck gracing the front of the card. An email address and phone number were on the back.

 

Tow truck. Phone number. Truck. Number. Truck. The card flipped over and over in Roman’s hands. If he called, he would still probably be stuck on the side of the road for the better part of an hour. He knew how this stuff worked and he wasn’t about to drop his dad’s name to try and speed the process (though the thought _had_ occurred and he hated himself for it). Roman gave a heavy sigh and closed the GPS on his phone so he could punch in the phone number.

 

…

 

“Your turn, bossman. I got the last one.” Seth was still trying to wring his gear out over the space heater, threatening to drown the damn thing.

 

Dean shook his head, reaching for the battered desk phone. “Ambrose Tows, how can I help you?”

 

The guy on the other end sounded like he’d given his last fuck six years ago, explaining in a dull monotone that his rental had made “ _the noise_ ” and then stopped, leaving him quite stranded. “ _I don’t exactly have anywhere to be, so if you guys are busy-_ ”

 

“Twenty minutes tops. Stay in the vehicle, hazards on, you know how this works.” Dean took down the make and model of the car, then started struggling back into his own still-wet reflective gear. “Seth, man the phone til’ Dallas or Slater come in. I would say Corbin, but you know how he is on the phone.” Ambrose grimaced and Seth mirrored his expression.

 

“Yeah, definitely not a good plan.” The younger man agreed, heater continuing to crackle and steam underneath his sopping gear.

 

“Could you _maybe_ not ruin my new heater? Fuck’s sake, just walk across the street to the laundromat. Lazy ass.” Dean scolded, tousling Seth’s hair on his way by. “Alright, I’m out. Don’t wait up.”

 

“Oh I know better than _that_ , Ambrose.” Seth needled as Baron came sloshing through the door.

 

“Ambrose. Seth.” Baron grunted by way of greeting, picking Rollins up under the arms and carefully depositing him to one side when he didn’t instantly move. “Truck heater’s weird again. ‘Scuse me.” Baron was Dean’s newest hire and he had a habit of bodily shifting people out of his way. It didn’t extend to clients, but it had definitely thrown Dean for a loop when he had blocked a cupboard and Baron kind of just. Wordlessly picked him up by the shoulders and dropped him three feet over.

 

Baron never _asked_ people to get out of his way, though he had started tacking on an ‘excuse me’ after he moved someone. They were either already _well_ on their way or he was speeding them along, used and overused to people not moving fast enough. He knew he could be a freight train and it was simpler to lift, pivot and carry on versus stop.

 

“Hey Baron, you’re already soaked. I just got in a few minutes ago. Wanna’ take this call? I promise it’ll be worth your while.” Ambrose said sweetly. Well, as sweetly as a six foot four man with a voice like whiskey sandpaper could sound.

 

Baron pursed his lips, huffing out a breath. “Boss…”

 

“C’mon man, what’s a little more rain gonna’ do? Please? I’ll get you coffee for the rest of the week, yeah?” Dean _hated_ the rain with a burning passion. Baron filed that information away for later use while Seth rolled his eyes at their boss’ antics. “Look, you can take this call or…or you have to answer the phone. For as long as I’m gone.”

 

“ _Christ_ , fuck no.” Baron growled, taking the paper Dean waved in his face. “I was gonna’ do the call anyway, don’t have to threaten me with that crap. I dislike coffee _way_ less than I dislike that phone.” He grinned suddenly when Dean looked confused. “Because I don’t like anything. Y’know, ever. So I exist solely on a scale of how much I dislike shit.”

 

“Just…take the fuckin’ _call_ , Corbin.”

 

“I’m _goin’_.” Baron pushed open the door of the office and started the wet trudge back to his truck.

 

“Wait, Baron, coffee!” Seth called, running out after him with a dented Thermos. “I made it like, two hours ago, so it’s probably safe for human consumption?”

 

“Thanks man.” Baron rolled the warm canister between his palms, trying to get some life back in his cold fingers.

 

“You know you can tell him no, right?” Seth’s voice was a little quieter, trying his best for a more kindly approach. “I promise he won’t fire you or anything. He just doesn’t like working in the rain.”

 

“Eh, nobody does. If it means he buys me coffee for the week, I’d say I’m getting the sweeter part of the deal.” Baron shrugged. “Thanks for the hot one though, I owe you.”

 

Seth waved him off. “No worries, man. Now get moving! Ambrose promised that guy twenty minutes.”

 

“Got it, got it.” Baron sighed, climbing into his truck. At least he was familiar with the lonely stretch of road that the client was on. Hopefully this would be a simple call. Baron plugged his phone in, pushed play, and let Sabaton lead him on his way.

 

…

 

Roman groggily realized that someone was knocking on the window of his car. He must have dozed off. He fumbled for the button to roll down the window, still half-asleep and always so damn confused with each different rental. Button in the door? No, that was the locks. Okay, try center console. Finally, _finally_ he flipped up a weird little panel in the center console and found the right toggle. Whichever asshole technician decided that _hiding_ the fucking buttons would be better for their goddamn _aesthetic_ could eat a fist.

 

“Hey man, sorry about that.” Roman yawned once he managed to open the window. Rain patterning on his face jerked him a little more awake, a little more aware of the fact that holy _shit_ , this guy was _tall_. “You’re the guy from Ambrose Tows?”

 

“You got it.” The guy stooped so he could see into the car, weirdly familiar deep brown eyes studying Roman. “I assume you’re the one who called, yeah? You’re the only stationary Charger I’ve seen so far.” Roman was unsettled. He _knew_ those eyes, but not the voice or the frame. It was a strange sensation, his brain almost-remembering something, _something_.

 

He went to rummage around in the glove compartment for the rental information. “I have…shit, I know it’s here.” Roman stifled another yawn, wishing more than anything that he could be back in his hotel room as he popped the packet free and passed it to the guy. The guy with the name patch on his reflective jacket that said Aaron.

 

 _Wait_ , no, that wasn't right. Roman squinted. “B- _Baron?_ ” It came out _much_ more incredulous than he would have liked, but he’d only ever known one Baron.

 

…

 

“I was named after the dog. Y'know, Indiana.” The joke was old but Baron always used it whenever someone asked about his name. Which was _exhaustingly_ often.

 

The guy in the car didn’t even give him a chuckle. _Tough crowd_. “Christ, it _is_ you! What’s it been, man? Fifteen years?” Well, _that_ was a new one. Guy sounded fucking _shocked_.

 

Baron looked up from the rental paperwork, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

 

The guy, for _whatever_ reason, looked…almost happy? Like _hesitantly_ happy, a puppy waiting for a treat. “ _Man_ you’ve changed. It’s me dude, it’s Roman!”

 

Baron cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. There was _no_ way. “Bullshit.” He said finally. “Roman fucking Reigns? Bullshit.”

 

“Baron _goddamn_ Corbin!” Roman seemed fucking _excited_ and that was a _little_ weird. He popped open the car door ( _Jesus Christ if suits could kill Roman was armed and knee-deep in bodies_ ) and fucking _shook Baron’s hand_ , clasping his forearm with his other hand and not seeming to care that Baron’s sleeve was soaked.

 

Something flickered in Baron’s piecemeal memory, fifteen years was a long time. _Mr. Reigns_ shook hands like that, all sincere with the extra hand on his forearm even as he’d told Baron to stay the hell away from his son. Baron didn’t mean to flinch back.

 

If Roman noticed he kept it to himself, that wide grin on his face making him look more like the big, kindhearted goofball Baron recalled. “Christ, I can’t even believe you’re standing in front of me right now man! What are the fucking odds?” He asked.

 

Baron _may_ have wanted to bounce his dumb fucking face off the hood of his truck. _Odds would have been fucking_ _ **stacked**_ _if your dad hadn’t threatened my fifteen-year-old, pimply self with a one way ticket to juvie to keep you under his thumb._ “It’s impressive alright.” Baron replied dryly. He couldn’t exactly blame _Roman_ for that. He doubted Mr. Reigns had ever told his son about their little _chat_. “You uh. How have you been? I’m just gonna’ work and talk, if that’s okay. Kinda’ cold. Wet.”

 

“Shit, uh, hang on, I have-” Roman flung open the driver’s side door again and scrabbled for something under the passenger’s seat. Baron tensed reflexively, having dealt with a few calls like _this_ before. But no, no, it was just an umbrella. He gave a silent sigh of relief even while he watched Roman almost take the thing apart trying to figure out how to open it. “Ah!” Roman said triumphantly, that stupid grin back on his face as he held the umbrella over Baron’s head. “I’ve been good, man, not _happy_ or anything but good enough.” Roman didn’t seem to care that the umbrella was dripping on him.

 

Baron gestured at his truck. “If you want to keep your suit intact, go get comfortable. Not that I don’t appreciate your umbrella-holding skills.”

 

Roman laughed, sounding a little bitter. “It’s fine man. I’ve got six other ones. Have to look the part.”

 

…

 

Baron had gotten, in a word, _huge_. Roman had always been the larger of the two of them but now Baron _towered_ over him, having to duck his head to stay under the umbrella Roman held.

 

Roman always wondered what happened to Baron. They had been thick as thieves in middle school, into high school, Baron practically a permanent houseguest. And then one day Roman’s father had informed him that he’d be going to a private school a few towns over from here on out, Roman’s “ _But it’s the middle of the school year!_ ” falling on deaf ears. Even stranger than the abrupt change of scenery was Baron vanishing from his life, and when Roman called the house Baron’s mom always said he was grounded or doing homework or just…not there and Roman was young, still obedient. When his father told him to stop calling Baron, it _hurt_ , but Roman obliged.

 

“ _I’m sorry son, I guess maybe you should choose your friends with more care_.” His father had never really _acknowledged_ Baron when he was around, but after he’d dropped off the map Roman had been inclined to agree. So eager to forget the person who was essentially his only friend, so willing to do whatever his father thought was best. “ _You continuing to call him is pitiful,_ _ **and**_ _grasping. He was just using you._ ”

 

Roman barely remembered what it was like _now_ to want to make his dad proud, but fifteen years ago that had been all he ever thought about. He fell in line, he did as he was told, and look where it had gotten him. Standing in the mud on the side of the road, in the world’s sharpest suit, while Baron slowly eased his rental onto the flatbed.

 

Baron worked in silence ( _he always had_ Roman reminded himself), hands scraped from the heavy tow chains and shaking slightly with cold as he finally settled the flatbed to a level position. Roman knew he was supposed to be talking, knew Baron had asked how he had been. But aside from his first answer, he couldn’t seem to formulate anything. It felt like it had been an eternity since Roman had an actual _conversation_ , and he found to his dismay that he was woefully out of practice.

 

Baron jerked a thumb towards the truck. “C’mon Reigns, get in the cab. You’re shivering.”

 

Roman realized that he _was_ , obviously the cold was getting to him. He opened the passenger’s side door and climbed up in the truck, carefully shaking off the umbrella before wrestling it back into the compact tube it had been before. Baron plopped into the driver’s seat with a grunt.

 

“Man I know I’m supposed to be talking and all but _shit_ , it’s surreal to see you again.” Roman blurted, feeling like an idiot once the words left his mouth. Shit like _this_ was why his dad only brought him along to look intimidating.

 

Baron’s smirk was slow and not exactly friendly. “How’s your old man, Reigns? Still kicking, I take it, although you look like you were the guest of honor at a mafia funeral.”

 

“He has me dress like this. 'Menacing, Roman, you must be _menacing_. Make them fear your reaction should they look at you wrong.'” Roman mocked his dad’s deep voice, making Baron chuckle.

 

“Fuckin’ Christ, who even _says_ shit like that.” The larger man asked, struggling out of his wet coat.

 

“Corporate warfare and mind games are two of his favorite things, man.” Roman shrugged, loosening his thin red tie. “Nothing’s changed there.”

 

“Yeah, I figured.” Roman’s brow furrowed at the statement, unsure of what Baron meant. Baron cleared his throat awkwardly after a minute. “Sorry, it’s been a long, fucking busy wet day. Not tryin’ to be rude. I just...I remember what he thought of me, man.”

 

“What?” Roman asked before he could stop himself.

 

“I guess he didn't ever tell you, huh? It's okay. Not really important.” Baron quickly dismissed Roman's question, tapping the screen of his phone and then turning down the volume of his music. “So obviously the mechanic for the rental place isn't exactly going to be in at eight-thirty at night.” The abrupt change of subject left Roman feeling off-balance as Baron pulled back onto the road. “You go into their office, have a little chat, get your ass a replacement car.”

 

“You’ve done this a few times, huh?” Roman commented, making Baron flash him that quick half-grin he remembered so well.

 

“Once or twice. There’s a reason there was a card in the car.”

 

…

 

Baron laid in his bunk, sleeping bag wrapped tightly around his body as he tried to warm up. It had been…strange to see Roman again. Not _bad_ , but very strange. Roman had used the term _surreal_. Baron figured he would never see him again, after how suddenly he’d sliced himself out of Roman’s life ( _like a_ _ **cancer**_ _, a fucking cancer_ ). He had been terrified that Mr. Reigns would follow through with his threat. He’d told his parents that he and Roman had a fight, that he didn’t want to be friends with the other boy anymore. His mother in particular had been confused.

 

Baron rolled onto his side, shivering and tugging the sleeping bag up over his shoulder.

 

“ _I don’t understand Baron, you two have been friends for so long! You’d really let one silly argument ruin that?_ ”

 

“ _That’s just it, Mom, you_ _ **don’t**_ _understand!_ ” Baron remembered exploding, frustrated and angry with the helplessness of the whole situation. The fact that his mother kept _badgering_ him about it didn’t make anything easier. Roman was his _friend_ , damn it, his _best_ friend, and losing that friendship was one of the hardest experiences Baron had ever faced. Roman’s calls petered out over the months and that hurt _much_ more than Baron cared to admit. That Reigns hadn’t showed up unannounced, hadn’t come knocking on the basement apartment window angrily demanding an explanation. Like he didn’t matter enough for that shit. Baron knew he should have been relieved. Some days he was.

 

But now he scoffed at his younger self for being so terrified of _juvie_ that he would just…run with his tail tucked, like a little bitch. Mr. Reigns, ever the cunning bastard, must have overheard Baron at least once when he talked about his dad being a sort-of former felon.

 

“ _I can’t screw up like that, Roman_.”

 

The perfect threat. Who would take scrawny, _brush-cut-Baron’s_ word over a proper businessman like Mr. Reigns? He obviously would be _inclined_ towards misbehavior, “ _with a father like_ _ **that**_ _, I’m surprised at your son’s good grades._ ” He recalled how pink his mother’s face had flushed when his teacher had decided to open her stupid mouth. Folks always assumed it was Baron’s dad that had the temper.

 

The weird part about all of this was the fact that Roman had been almost _ecstatic_ when he realized who he was. Like he couldn’t even believe it.

 

_Did he really_ _**miss** _ _me? After fifteen years?_

 

Baron huffed out a breath, rolling over again. His phone laid on the bed beside him, charging. Roman had insisted on giving him his number, saying firmly that they “ _needed to get drinks and catch up_.” And really, if that wasn’t the most cliché bullshit Corbin had heard in his _life_ …

 

He didn’t know _why_ he fucking did it, but he found himself unlocking the screen and typing out a quick text.

 

- _good to see you again Reigns._

 

Baron dropped the phone after he sent the message, rubbing his hands over his face. The motion felt weirdly like a sigh of relief, like a release of tension. His phone vibrated twice.

 

- _I still can’t believe it’s you!_

- _Up to anything tomorrow night?_

 

Baron felt his mouth curve up on one side. Not exactly a smile. Definitely not a frown.

 

- _Sorry, on call until midnight. How long are you in town for?_

 

…

 

Roman felt fucking _nervous_ , like he hadn’t felt in years. He straightened his jacket for the sixth time since he’d gotten out of his car, undoing the bottom button so he could tuck his hands into the shallow pockets of his suit pants. He had wanted to change but of _course_ , his father had trapped him after this final meeting, offering his usual hollow bullshit thanks for Roman’s presence. “ _You make me feel miles safer, Roman_.”

 

Roman exhaled hard. He had no idea whether his dad was sincere about _anything_ , or whether it was all a plan, a venture. That was a little fucked up in and of itself, that he could just as easily be manipulating Roman, stringing him along with a few hugs or private words of praise. Roman wondered sometimes if he’d always been putty in his father’s hands.

 

It had been two weeks since he’d seen Baron. The guy who had been his best friend for so many years, who still had the same eyes. Roman could barely believe that they had reconnected, and so smoothly! As though nothing had happened to separate them. They texted back and forth, finally making plans to meet at a place that Baron recommended. “ _Mauro mixes a mean Four Corners, and he’s a hell of a storyteller_.”

 

Roman squared his shoulders, then pulled open the door of the bar. A neon, slightly crooked sign above the door blinked _Malfunction Junction_.

 

He stopped, taking in the scene in front of him. Nobody seemed to have noticed Roman had entered the place, which was an odd (but definitely not unwelcome) occurrence for the well-built young man. Everyone was too busy watching the deadly game Baron played with a wicked-looking knife and his own hand. Three shot glasses were stacked neatly beside him on the bar and Baron carried on an aggressive conversation with the animated bartender, all the while idly stabbing the tip of the knife rapidly in between his fingers on a cutting board.

 

Baron had _tattoos_ , they laced up his left arm and Roman could glimpse a blur of vibrant colors that continued over his collarbone above the neck of his shirt. “Who wants to bet that I can’t go in reverse or change the order with four shots in?” The tall man called loudly over the din of the bar.

 

“I’ll take that bet.” Roman replied, grinning broadly. “Crazy bastard, this how you get your kicks?”

 

Baron paused, then half-smiled back, accepting another shot as he waved Roman over. “Gotta’ keep these simple country folk entertained, right? A little triple f never hurt anybody.” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s your wager, big dog? New tempo? Or reverse?”

 

“Up to you.” Roman felt weirdly like he was being flirted with. It had been _years_ since he’d last heard Baron call him _big dog_ , and it had a strange feel to it now. He took out his wallet and slapped a fifty dollar bill down on the bar, smirking in challenge. “Maybe both, if you think it’s worth it.”

 

Baron chewed his lower lip, appearing to mull it over. “Get Reigns a glass of somethin’ decent. I’ll take his bet.” He said finally, to the delight of the rest of the bar. “You already _know_ it’s on me, Mauro, c’mon.” He snorted when the bartender didn’t immediately move. “Alright, anyone else? Any other takers? S’ an easy bet, guys! Order _and_ tempo? Easy!” Baron cocked his head while a few more dollars changed hands. “Glad you came out tonight, Roman. Get to see me in action.”

 

“Yeah, uh, what the fuck are you actually doing?” Roman asked, nodding his thanks to the man he now knew was Mauro and sliding his glass away from the cutting board.

 

Baron’s knife proclaimed _KERSHAW_ on the handle, stonewashed grey-black and finished with an edge that looked razor sharp. “Five finger fillet. Knife in between your fingers as fast as you can go, back and forth.” Baron explained, adjusting his beanie. “Picked it up from my mom, she’d get the fidgets something fierce. She made me promise not to do it in front of you, didn’t want your parents thinkin’ I was a bad influence.” There was something in Baron’s tone when he said that, a bitterness that caught Roman off-guard. “I throw in the variations to spice shit up. Slater loves it, dontcha’ Slater?” Baron called, pointing over the crowd of people around him. “Slater is my sugar daddy, he drops a good sixty bucks on me and I don’t even have to sleep with him.”

 

“Fuck you man!” Slater retorted, his face nearly the same color as his hair.

 

“Aw c’mon Slater, I know you love watching how _careful_ I can be.” Baron’s voice dipped low. “You all like knowing I’m dexterous as a motherfucker, don’t lie!”

 

Roman swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

 

Baron straightened up, flipping the knife with an easy grace. “Alright! No more takers? Let’s do this.” He downed the shot and spread his fingers on the cutting board. And then he began, bringing the blade down with enough force to make the cutting board rattle. The knife laced back and forth between his fingers and thumb while he seemed to get his rhythm down, then he abruptly changed tactics. Twice between this finger, once over that one, once again and twice, _much_ faster than before.

 

Roman knew he probably looked stupid, staring like he was. At least he knew he wasn’t alone? Half the patrons in the place were hanging close, gawking. But _shit_ , this was dangerous. And…

 

And Baron still poked his tongue out when he was concentrating hard. Roman was _well_ beyond caring about how stupid he looked, the sight taking him back to the hours spent playing Mortal Kombat and Contra or doing their homework, when he would jokingly noogie Baron and call him 'squirt' to break his focus. Baron would swear and swat his hand away, that customary almost-grin on his face. Baron didn’t smile easily, he’d been kind of scrawny and very, _very_ serious. Old beyond his years due to his semi-absent father and unstable mother, Roman recalled the grim way the young man had regarded his future. Baron would work himself into a froth doing his studies, refusing to be content with average grades. “ _I want a good job man, so I don’t have to worry about getting myself in debt like my mom did_ … _or ending up in frigging prison like Dad_.”

 

Roman, child of privilege that he was, didn’t really _understand_ his friend’s determination, but he admired it regardless. He tried to encourage Baron as best as he could in his own way, shoving him into his locker to wake him up in the mornings and making a habit of inviting him over after school so he could study somewhere quiet. Baron had admitted that being around his parents could be a little…intense. And Roman’s parents were essentially nonexistent, it was the perfect arrangement.

 

Baron was obviously winning this bet. Roman couldn’t even say he was disappointed about losing, enjoying the show too much. Baron finished his repetition by slamming the butt of the knife on the bar, loud enough that it reverberated. “Alright, pay up to Mauro!” He said, making a waving motion toward the black-haired bartender. “Let me drink my fuckin’ choice in peace now, you vultures.” Baron tugged a barstool in close, gesturing at Roman.

 

…

 

Baron was sweating. He _might_ have been showing off. Just a little. But shit, the bet had been made and he hadn’t lost yet. He’d done harder patterns _eight_ shots deep. Not with Reigns watching, though. Why _that_ made a difference, Baron couldn’t exactly say. It did all the same.

 

Roman sat up on the stool beside him, slowly sipping his beverage. He was still dressed nineteen shades of severe. Baron wondered if that was his idea of casual and asked as much, relieved when Roman chuckled, “Nah, my dad caught me as I was leaving to change and he ate up all my time. Clothes are in the rental.”

 

“Dude. You _can’t_ be comfortable, that jacket has wrinkles sharper than my knife.” Baron boldly patted Roman on the shoulder. “Go change. I’ll get us a booth, order some grub. You hungry?”

 

Roman nodded, not seeming to need much convincing. “Yeah, I uh…didn’t really stop for lunch or anything. Thanks man.”

 

Baron shrugged, straightening out his patch-covered vest. “Don’t fuckin’ _thank_ me, we’re both off our respective clocks, right? S’ just common decency.” He didn’t miss the way Roman’s eyes kept drifting to his arm, and he leaned in to catch the other man’s gaze. “If you want to know, just ask.” Baron didn’t mean to sound so fucking _flirty_ , this was pitiful. His voice kept dipping into the low tone he used when he _wanted_ something, only now it was probably unintentional and _incredibly_ awkward.

 

Roman started, jerking his eyes back up. “Sorry! I didn’t…I mean, yours are a hell of a lot different from mine, but I bet they’re the same in one respect. Family, yeah?”

 

Baron nodded, a little surprised. “You have…?”

 

Roman grinned. “Let me change. I’ll be back man.”

 

 _Oh_ , did he have. Roman swapped the suit for a pair of jeans and a loose tank top and holy _shit_ , did he have. Baron was _jealous_ , barely keeping from reaching out and touching the tribal blackwork. More than that though, he was shocked. The Roman _he_ remembered wouldn’t have gotten tattoos unless his dad held his fucking _hand_ while he sat in the chair. “Shit, you don’t do anything by halves, huh?” Baron asked, confused when Roman took his hand and gently folded his fingers, leaving his index pointed.

 

Roman drew Baron’s finger over his shoulder and arm, explaining spearheads, ceremonial mats and armor. Baron hung onto every word, he loved to hear the stories behind the artwork. From the inspiration to the final canvas, it was always an intimate glimpse into the individual. Baron wasn’t sure whether it was the shots, curiosity or just his own loneliness that kept his finger on Roman’s skin, kept his hand trembling ever-so-slightly in Roman’s grip.

 

Roman finally offered Baron his hand. “Now you.” He said, grinning at the taller man and finishing off his drink before picking up a fork and starting to poke at the nachos Baron had ordered. “Tell me everything, Baron. I’ve bent your ear this whole time so don’t go easy on me.”

 

“I uh...” Baron awkwardly took Roman’s hand, pulling it down over his arm, across the timekeepers that adorned his skin. “…okay.” He wasn’t as good at talking as he was at listening. He never had been. Baron cleared his throat.

 

Roman looked at him expectantly, hand steady.

 

“This is when my grandma passed away.” Baron started softly, circling Roman’s finger around the first clock on his shoulder. Grandpa was the hourglass, his Alzheimer’s eroding him into oblivion. Ravens surrounding both, messengers of the gods. Always connected, even in death.

 

Baron hesitated on the next one, the mantel clock on his wrist. “This…um. This is…” He still had a difficult time talking about it, despite the years that went by.

 

“Hey, Baron-” Roman sounded apologetic and Baron didn’t like that one _bit_.

 

“Mom.” He said curtly. He dragged Roman’s finger in a lazy spiral across the ornate clock face. “I miss her, even though she was batshit crazy.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that she’s gone. I know you loved her.” Roman said quietly. “I mean, she was _definitely_ crazy, but she was still your mom.”

 

Baron’s snicker was wildly inappropriate but he couldn’t seem to help it. “That’s the understatement of the century, Reigns. Hell on fuckin’ wheels, holy shit did she try to be good to me.”

 

“What about your dad? Is he still…” Roman trailed off.

 

“He’s in for a long stint this time. We don’t really talk since Mom passed.” Baron answered him. _Since Mom passed away and he went right the fuck back to some younger chick he’d apparently always had on the side, Jesus Christ I wanted to kill him._ “Sorry, I didn’t…fuck, it’s the shots and talking about my mom. I get so fuckin’ melancholy.” Baron said hastily when he saw the way Roman was looking at him. _Shit_ , like he was _worried_. “Are uh…are the nachos…?”

 

“Mm, they’re good man.” Roman hadn’t stopped studying him. Baron realized he was in trouble, faintly recognizing the stare that Roman was giving him. It was the same one he’d get way back when, as his brain worked overtime to figure something out. Baron quickly changed the subject, bringing up that asinine science fair project that he _knew_ Roman had to remember, the two of them going back and forth while recounting the epic tale of a potato powered clock gone horribly wrong (or right, depending on how _done_ you liked your hashbrowns).

 

Baron reached over Roman’s hand to scoop some melted cheese and salsa onto a chip during a lull in the conversation, but Roman caught his wrist mid-motion. Baron jolted as Roman leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “What did my dad say about you, Baron?” Roman didn’t sound accusing, just curious.

 

“I uh…it doesn’t really matter, Reigns. I-”

 

“No, back when you were doing your little knife demonstration, you said something about not wanting to be a bad influence. And before, when you towed my car, you said my dad…look, I know how he can be. What did he do that made you disappear when we were kids?” Roman asked finally.

 

Baron had kind of hoped he wouldn’t have to explain this to the ‘ _Ultimate Father’s Boy_ ’ Roman Reigns. He wasn’t really keen on being called a liar, and even _less_ keen on losing Roman again before they’d barely been reacquainted. He raised an eyebrow, hoping to maybe deter the other man. At least for a little while. “Here, Reigns? Right now? In a bar full of fucking people who are all definitely listening in because nothing ever happens in this town?”

 

Roman puffed out a breath, scrunching his nose. Oh, _that_ was dangerous, it could be considered a pout and Baron knew he was weak. Roman slid out of the booth and extended a hand to Baron. Like he expected him to fucking take it. “C’mon. I have someplace we can go.” Roman’s smile was kind, that big goofball smile. Baron looked down at his hand, and then back up.

 

“…let me have some more of these nachos first.”

 

…

 

Baron had stalled for a good half hour. But Roman was nothing if not patient, sitting quietly beside the taller man while he tucked in to the nachos. They _were_ very good. No denying that.

 

Baron was a fidgety passenger, smoothing out his jeans or straightening his beanie every couple of minutes. Roman found it almost endearing that Baron was nervous. Like he thought that what he was going to tell Roman was some earth-shattering thing.

 

Roman of _all_ people knew just what his father was capable of. His fingers momentarily tightened on the steering wheel.

 

The elevator ride was near-silent. Baron hadn’t stopped being twitchy. Roman’s arms were full of his suit, otherwise he would have put a hand out again. _Something_ to keep Baron from jittering quite so much. Baron really must think that Roman was still wrapped around his dad’s finger. Roman was touched, in an odd way, that Baron was so unwilling to do anything that he imagined could ruin Roman’s relationship with his father.

 

It was so like Baron to endure shit that he didn’t have to, just because he was used to it or because he thought it would help.

 

When the door of the room closed behind them, Baron’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He tugged off his beanie, releasing a _mane_ of hair that he proceeded to shake out and fingercomb absently. Roman hadn’t been expecting _that_. Young Baron had always had his hair cut military-style. Roman was struck with the sudden urge to reach out and touch the brown locks that now covered the back of Baron’s vest, barely snatching his hand back in time. Shit, _where_ had his self-control gone?

 

“So!” Baron said abruptly, turning on his heel to face Roman head on. “Your dad and I.” It seemed that he’d regained his footing, carrying on while Roman began the careful process of hanging up his suit. “Guy obviously knew what you didn’t seem to care about. I was a dirt-poor kid, from a dirt-poor, dysfunctional family. Your dad sure as shit thought I was no good and I guess one day things just kind of…came to a head. I don’t know what harm I was doin’, maybe taking up too much of your time. I just remember he shook my hand, like I guess he does with everyone. One hand on the arm, all heartfelt, he had a fucking _smile_ on his face and he said…” Baron paused, his throat working.

 

Roman decided that putting away his suit wasn’t a priority right now. “Hey.” He said quietly, taking Baron’s arm and leading him to the couch. “Do you want something else to drink? I…shit, I’m sorry.” Roman hardly knew what he was apologizing for but Baron looked _distraught_ and he knew this wasn’t easy for the other man.

 

Baron grabbed his hand before he could leave. “You have to understand I was…I was _used_ to the stuff people would say about my folks, okay? Kids talked a lot of shit when you weren’t around, their parents were even worse. I don’t want you thinkin’ that I pussed out ‘cuz I couldn’t handle your old man saying what everyone else did.” Baron held Roman’s gaze, looking more serious than he ever had when they were young.

 

“I get that, say what you need to.” Roman encouraged him, trying for a little smile.

 

“H-He told me to stay away from you. 'I want you to forget that my son exists', with his fucking hand on my arm, holdin' me in this iron handshake. We were friends! We were _best_ fucking friends, and he just...” Baron shook his head, Roman catching a glimpse of angry tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I made the mistake of asking his ass _why_ and he got so fucking _ugly_ so fast. I...he must have heard me talkin' about my dad, because he said he would have me put in a youth detention center. 'I don't care what trumped-up charges I have to use, _boy_ , you _will_ stay away from my son.'”

 

Roman could  _hear_ his father in that statement. His heart broke at the idea of his  _best friend_ , alone after everything, abandoned even by himself. 

 

But Baron wasn't done. “So I did. I stayed away. I...I told my parents to make excuses, I...shit, you have to...Roman, I  _couldn't_ , I couldn't ruin my future like that. I'm so sorry, I'm so  _fucking_ sorry.” Baron apologized, his hands clenched into fists. “I'm so sorry, I left you an-and I'm sure your dad fuckin'  _pounced_ on you without me around to waste your time and I'm just... _Jesus_ , I'm so sorry, p-please-”

 

Roman was in motion before he even realized, hands tight on Baron's shoulders. The taller man flinched and that hurt more than Roman expected. He gave Baron a gentle shake, making him look up. “Hey, squirt. For being the smarter one of the two of us, you sure are dumb sometimes.”

 

Baron snorted incredulously. “The hell do you think you can still call me squirt for? In case you missed it,” He got to his feet, rolling his shoulders. The sight would have been imposing any other time, “m' fuckin'  _huge_ now, Reigns. Could kick your dad's ass and go to real prison.”

 

“I mean, the idea has merit. Don't look at me like that, you can't _really_ think I'm still some idiot kid who believes that his dad hung the fucking stars...right?” Shit, that was _exactly_ what Baron thought, Roman could practically _feel_ his skepticism. He stood as well, a challenge plainly issued while Baron tilted his head to the side, popping his neck. “You gotta' be kidding me. After fifteen years, you don't think I would figure out at least a couple of my old man's tricks?” 

 

“I never knew how much you saw.” Baron replied simply.

 

Roman opened his mouth to retort, then closed it slowly as he actually  _ thought _ about that for a second. “I saw some things.” He said weakly. Baron raised an eyebrow. “I'm serious!” Roman insisted, scowling. “You  _ don't _ get to look at me like that, motherfucker.”

 

“I'll look at you however I  _ damn _ well please, Reigns.” Baron grunted, squaring broad shoulders. “It's been fifteen fucking years.”

 

“Fifteen fucking years.” Roman echoed, wondering idly why Baron kept shifting his weight back and forth. He got his answer a second later when Baron cupped his jaw and gave him a bruising kiss, one that shocked Roman to his core. Baron took his hands off of him, went to step back, already stammering apologies.

 

Roman grabbed a fistful of Baron's hair at the back of his scalp and halted him in his tracks. “Yeah?” Roman breathed. Color him curious. “You wanna' kick my dad's ass, and I am my father's fucking  _ son _ , Baron. Is this some fucked up justice to you?”

 

“N-No, no no, I--”

 

“Don't lie to me.”

 

“I don't want to hurt  _ you _ , man,  _ that's _ fucked up.”

 

“A few more years and I won't be  _ me _ anymore, Baron.” Roman said grimly, pressing their foreheads together. Baron stared into his eyes, obviously confused. “I'll be him. That was the plan all along. The only flaw is that I've got a huge heart and tiny brain. Kinda' a problem, but it's becoming less of one, y'know?”

 

“You're  _ not _ him.” Baron snapped. “You never were, and you aren't ever  _ going _ to be, you got that?”

 

Roman smiled sadly. “There's not really anything anyone can do. I'm in pretty deep here. It's a miracle that I was able to get away and hang out with you tonight.”

 

“The hell it was.” Baron shook free of Roman's grip.

 

“This is how it is, Baron. I don't...there's nothing else I've done with my life. I'm just the next one. All I ever have been, I guess.”

 

“No,  _ fuck _ no, I ain't letting that happen. I  _ will _ kick your ass then.” Baron threatened. “I'll fucking wallop you until my hands break. You don't understand, Roman. You...you were my  _ friend _ , my only friend, when no one else would give me a second glance. I'm not letting you go without a damn fight this time.”

 

Roman felt...odd at Baron's protective declaration, finding himself suddenly unable to meet the other man's eyes.

 

Baron grimaced and stripped off his vest, dropping it on the couch. “C'mere.” He beckoned Roman closer and Roman moved silently, not even thinking about protesting when Baron wrapped him in a warm hug. “Always so obedient. Always so well-behaved for him. You just wanted to make him proud. I remember.” Baron murmured into his hair. “But I  _ also _ remember the kid that would jerk me out of studying to rest my brain, the asshole that would keep me conscious in class by poking me in the ribs. You've never been what he wanted and that's  _ fine _ , Roman. Because what he wants is a fucking clone, a yes man, some suit-wearing toolbag to carry on his  _ legacy _ . He doesn't get that you have your own legacy to make, Reigns. Maybe you continue with his shit, or maybe you do you own shit, but that's  _ your choice _ . Not his.” Baron said firmly.

 

“Do you really believe that?” Roman asked plaintively. “Do you believe all that stuff, Corbin?”

 

“What the heck do I have to  _ do _ here, Roman?” Baron's hands were in his hair now, undoing his elastic and freeing Roman's black mane. “I've already told you I'm gonna' beat you up, given you some inspirational bullshit about not being your father. Trust me, if there's  _ one _ thing I know it's that a kid doesn't have to be their father.”

 

“My dad would probably go into fits if he knew you were here, pawing at me.” Roman had  _ no _ idea why he'd said that.

 

But judging from Baron's smirk the other man thought the notion amusing, taking a handful of Roman's hair. “Yeah? Think he'd get pissed off about some fuckin'  _ felon spawn _ touching his precious kid? When was the last time a regular person got to put their hands on you, Reigns? Ever?”

 

“I...” Roman's mouth went dry and he swallowed loudly.

 

Baron fucking  _ growled _ , fingers hungrily mapping the back of Roman's neck, his shoulders. “Roman, Roman, when was the last time someone fucking  _ touched _ you without seeing your father?”

 

“I don't...I don't know.” Roman answered, his voice weak. He had never thought about it, really.

 

...

 

Baron's growl continued to build in his chest. Roman looked fucking  _ lost _ , clinging to Baron's shoulders like he was drowning. Baron wanted more than anything to tear Mr. Reigns apart. The fact that Roman  _ knew _ what his father was doing and yet was unable to combat it was heart-wrenching. “If your dad was here  _ right now _ , you wanna' know what I'd do?” Baron asked, carding his fingers through Roman's hair.

 

Roman seemed confused, squinting a little as he looked up at Baron. “Uh, kick his ass?”

 

Baron shook his head, dragging his fingers lazily down Roman's chest. Roman shuddered, his eyes going wide. “I'd kiss you, all fuckin' sloppy.” Baron breathed, leaning in as close as he could, their lips just barely brushing. “I'd prefer us naked, but I'd settle for just you. I'd want him to watch me fucking  _ touch _ you, watch as I fuckin'  _ bite _ and lick my way down your body. You are  _ not him _ , he would  _ never _ do something like this, like what you're letting me do.” 

 

“B-Baron, I...”

 

“I hope he would tell me to stop, yell at me for putting my  _ dirty _ hands on you.” Baron smirked. “I hope so, but then I hope he could also hear you saying  _ don't stop _ . I'd want him to know that this is for  _ you _ . And then, once I got you off, left you a fucking  _ quivering _ wreck, I'd kick his ass.” Baron didn't normally talk this much, but Roman seemed to be fucking  _ into _ it and it wasn't like  _ he'd _ never thought about it before. 

 

“Y-Yeah?” Roman swallowed hard, “Still naked and everything?”

 

“I mean I'd put on some pants, probably. Maybe just my boxers.”

 

“I think I'd prefer you naked.”

 

“ _ I _ think it isn't really about what you'd prefer.” Baron wound his hand through Roman's hair again, tugging his head back to expose that  _ neck _ . “I think that even something as simple as  _ this _ would send your old man into a rager, yeah? My mouth on your fucking  _ throat _ . Wonder how he'd feel about me fondling you through your jeans, especially if I was saying all this filthy shit about how I was  _ fucking _ his  _ son _ .” Baron slid his other hand down the front of Roman's pants, a little surprised at the eager noise Roman made for him. “You  _ like _ that, Roman? You want me to do shit while your dad looks on, all red-faced and fuckin' unable to stop me while I fucking  _ stroke _ you like you belong to me? That turn you on,  _ big dog? _ ” 

 

Roman shuddered bodily, a quiet whimper issuing into the silence. His fingers kneaded at Baron's shoulders, like he would fall if he let go. “I think it would be even better if I had one of my suits on.” He mumbled finally. Baron smirked, tonguing the sharp angle of Roman's collarbone and then  _ biting _ , startling Roman into making another noise. “I-I'd want him to watch me as I...as I got down on my knees for you.” 

 

“Dangerous game you're fuckin' playing, Roman.” Baron unbuttoned his jeans. “Shit, no underwear?”

 

“I can't really wear them with the suit, they make lines and Dad says that's-” Roman's explanation was cut off by Baron kissing him fiercely and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “- _ ah _ , unprofessional,  _ fuck _ , God-” 

 

Baron pulled back to spit on his palm, hearing Roman  _ moan _ and if that wasn't the nicest shit. “Sorry, shoulda' done that first. It's been a while.”

 

“Since you jerked off?” Roman still managed to tease, making Baron snort.

 

“Asshole.”

 

“I don't care, don't fucking stop touching me again.” Roman ordered forcefully, the first demand he'd issued and  _ damn _ , Baron might have found another weakness. “Don't you fucking stop.” Baron did the exact opposite for a minute, shoving Roman back to sit on the couch. He dragged his shirt off over his head and then straddled Roman's lap, hand quickly going to work on the other man's cock. Roman's eyes went wide again, shaky fingers going to touch the ink across Baron's collarbone and chest. “ _ Oh _ , Jesus.” Roman gasped.

 

“In a world without chaos, there is no need for order. In a world without order, there is only chaos. So I keep my heart locked up and fly free as a fucking bird.” Baron bared his teeth even while he offered his explanation,  _ loving _ the way Roman's cock twitched in his hand. It really wasn't fair that Roman got to look at him like that, all soft brown eyes and hair mussed, tank top rucked up and exposing a little stomach. Baron knew he could pin him to the couch, fucking  _ easily _ , take whatever he wanted and Roman wouldn't fight him.  _ That _ thought of all things grounded him. “I am  _ gonna' _ get you off, Roman. You're gonna' fucking spill all over my hand, on this nice couch and on these nice jeans and I'm gonna'  _ mark _ you, you're my  _ best friend _ and you're under my protection now, understand?” Baron could feel Roman shudder beneath him, thighs shifting. “Even if you didn't let me do this, or shit, if you want me to stop, that's fine too. But I'm going to fight for you this time.”

 

“H-He told me to stop calling you. He said it was pitiful, he said you obviously didn't want to be friends with me and that you'd just been using me.” The words came all in a hitchy rush, Roman sounding almost like he was about to cry. “I just wanted to make him  _ happy _ , Baron. That was all I ever wanted but I'm not...shit, I'm dumb as fuck and I-”

 

“No, no no, never.” Baron soothed. “You being dumb and you having a functioning conscience are two different things. You're with me again, right? I'm gonna' do my damnedest to keep you,  _ you _ . Okay, big dog?” Baron asked, tipping Roman's chin up and kissing him softly. “You are  _ you _ , you're not him. Not if I can fucking help it.” 

 

“I missed you so much.” Roman's hips bucked, lazily rubbing his cock against Baron's through layers of clothing. Baron hissed, unzipping his own jeans. “You were the only person who didn't give a shit about who my dad was, the only friend I ever had that made me feel real.” Roman confessed, smiling, shoving Baron's hand out of the way. “Let me, yeah? Together?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

 

“Like I'm gonna' turn down an offer from  _ you _ . Sure.” Baron grunted sarcastically, gritting his teeth again when Roman teased a finger over the thick vein on the underside of his dick. “Naughty fuck, fist my  _ fucking _ cock already before I grab your hair and force you down.” Baron had no idea where  _ that _ came from, obviously his own frustration ran a little deeper than he knew. But the way Roman groaned loudly had him curious. “Force you down, make you come on the fucking  _ floor _ , desperate for me to touch you while that pretty mouth works on my cock. That sound nice,  _ Roman? _ You just want to make me feel good, right? That's all you ever did anyway, make other people happy.” Baron shoved the hair back out of his face, fixing the squirming man under him with a look that made him  _ quake _ . “Or...”

 

“'Or'?” Roman repeated after a second or two of silence, raising an eyebrow.

 

Baron had to admit, he'd never felt quite  _ this _ powerful before. “ _ Or _ , Roman, what if it's the other way around? What if you got me on  _ my _ hands and knees for  _ you _ , all gorgeous ink and fucking  _ pullable _ hair and choking on your cock? Imagine  _ that _ shit. Begging for more and mercy at the same time as you fuck me into submission, this deep voice all destroyed from saying your name over and over,  _ think about it _ .” Baron snarled, well aware that Roman was already, if the way his cock fucking  _ jumped _ was any indicator. “Oh you'd  _ love _ that shit, wouldn't you? You'd probably fuckin' bite my shoulders, fucking stroke my cock while you fucked me, but you wouldn't let me come. Fuck no, think of that fucking  _ power _ , Roman.” 

 

“ _ Yes _ .” The growled word startled Baron, Roman's hungry expression only serving to drive his point home. Roman tightened his grip on the base of Baron's dick, smirking when Baron sucked in a shaky breath. “I'd hold it off as long as you could take it. Until you're fucking  _ pleading _ to come, after I fuck you  _ raw _ and come on your back and then keep fingering you. Your whole body overstimulated, everything I fucking do sending jolts through you and you need, you  _ need _ but you can't fucking  _ have _ , not until--” 

 

Baron snapped his teeth down into Roman's shoulder, making the other man cry out. Tongue assaulting the skin, teeth framing the red mark he was creating. “You're mine.” Baron finally gasped, grinning wildly. “You're  _ mine _ , Roman.” Roman's response was to grab a handful of Baron's hair and  _ jerk _ his head to the side, leaning up to leave his own mark on Baron's neck. Roman used  _ way _ more teeth than tongue and Baron was not ashamed in the slightest to admit that if Roman didn't have a stranglehold on the base of his cock, he definitely would have spilled right then and there. 

 

“Yeah? Well  _ you _ are fucking  _ mine _ .” Possessive looked good on Roman, Baron decided, the meek father's boy turned into whoever the hell  _ this _ guy was underneath him. Tangled black hair and fierce brown eyes, claiming Baron with vicious teeth and promising things that would make his father fucking lose his shit. 

 

_ Shit _ ,  _ **shit** _ .

 

...

 

“I'm fuckin' close, Roman.” Baron choked, arching his back as Roman bit down again,  _ hard _ , breaking the skin. The iron taste in his mouth only spurred him on. “Oh no,  _ no _ no no you can't do that, I-”

 

“I'm pretty sure I just  _ did _ . I'm going to get you off first.” Roman snarled, hand speeding up on Baron's cock. “Gonna' get you off first. You're  _ mine _ and you're  _ coming _ first, because I fucking said so.” 

 

“ _ Christ _ , Roman,  _ yes _ , okay, okay-”

 

“No, shut up and  _ come for me _ , let me fucking watch you, let me see, let me fucking  _ see _ .” Roman ordered, groaning when Baron bucked his hips up and  _ finally _ came on his stomach with a moan so loud it made his voice crack. The sight was enough to tip him over his own edge and Roman spilled all over Baron's hand, all over his jeans. Just like Baron had wanted.

 

They both sat there panting for a few seconds, thoroughly winded. “Well.” Baron said finally, still sounding breathless. “About time those daddy issues did me some fucking good, huh?”

 

Roman started laughing, gingerly struggling out of his tank top and using it to mop off his stomach and Baron's hand. “You can say that again, holy  _ fuck _ . Hi. You okay?”

 

“I'm better, yeah. You?”

 

“I'd say better, as well.” Roman smiled, tugging Baron in to touch their foreheads together. “Thank you. I'm yours. If you still want me, that is.”

 

Baron's grin was slow, but it was fucking  _ there _ and that's all that mattered. “'Course. You're my best friend, big dog.”

 

Roman tousled Baron's hair, chuckling. His phone started vibrating in his pocket and Roman fumbled for the device on autopilot, propping it between his ear and shoulder. “Yes, sir?” He said dully.

 

Baron's eyes narrowed.

 

“ _ Roman, there were some complications. I know I told you that today was supposed to be the last meeting, but... _ ”

 

“Complications like, they're backing out of the deal? Or complications like they're demanding more?” Roman was full business, even as he felt his free time slipping away. Baron abruptly wrapped his arms around him, tucking his face into the other side of Roman's neck.

 

_ You're mine _ .

 

Roman felt the beginning of an evil smirk coming on. “Dad, if I have to... _ stand _ through another meeting, I have someone who will be accompanying me.”

 

His father sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “ _ **Fine** , I suppose more backup is better in the long run. I don't know how this will go. We have two days, make sure your  **company** is attired properly _ .”

 

“As always.” His father always hung up without saying goodbye, so Roman hit end and dropped his phone beside him on the couch. He slung an arm around Baron's shoulders, squeezing him tight. “Hey squirt...how do you feel about suits?”

 


	2. An Old Foe

“Baron’s got a _boyfriend_.” Dean sang, making Baron freeze at the sink where he’d been washing his hands. Slater looked surprised and Bo’s eyes went almost comically wide.

 

“Really? How do you know?” Slater asked, tilting his head. “He don’t look any different.”

 

“Are you fucking _blind?_ Big Banter _never_ wears his hair down! It’s a dead giveaway, means he’s gotten la…” Dean’s words died off as Baron silently pulled his hair to the side, exposing the bright purple-red bruise and teeth indents on his neck.

 

“ _Hoo_ boy, _Christ_ , you don’t do anythin’ halfway huh?” Heath winced while Baron gave Dean a tiny, sheepish smile.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s so great though Baron! Is he nice? He’d better be nice, or I’ll kill him.” Sometimes Bo said _things_ with that grin that made Baron a little nervous. “Because you’re a lonely kinda’ guy, so if _you_ like him he must be something special.” Bo continued to reason.

 

Baron blinked. He hadn’t actually thought of it that way, but he supposed Bo could be right. He _definitely_ had that whole loner thing going on. He’d always been that way though.

 

Except when it came to Reigns.

 

Baron allowed himself to smile for real, or as real as he ever got. Dallas seemed absolutely _delighted_. “Look guys, look at how happy he is!” Baron rolled his eyes and picked Bo up to get him out of his way, startled when Dallas clung to his arm in a weird hug. “I’m so glad, Corbin! It’s about time, man, you’ve been such a sad sack!”

 

“What the _hell_ did I walk into? Is that really Bo hanging off Corbin?” Rollins asked from the doorway, sipping his coffee with the exhausted air of a man fresh off his twenty-four.

 

“Big Bad got his ass a _man!_ ” Dean laughed as Baron attempted to separate himself from Dallas. Bo squeaked when Baron finally managed the monumental task, the larger man sitting him firmly up on the counter by the sink.

 

“ _Stay_.” Baron commanded, trying to look stern and failing miserably. He knew he was still smiling, mostly because Bo’s grin was infectious. Dallas wiggled in place on the counter. Baron didn’t know how the hell he’d survived this long, really. The younger man viewed everything through the eyes of a goddamn child, optimistic and enthusiastic to a fault. Except when he was dealing with clients, of course. “I have to head out in a little bit. And I’m not gonna’ be here tomorrow. Dallas picked up my shift.” Baron said to Ambrose, who squinted at him.

 

“Oh? And _what_ are you gonna’ be doing?” Dean asked suspiciously. “Hangin’ with your new boy? You just gonna’ kick all of us assholes to the curb?”

 

“Not exactly, no. It’s…there’s a meeting I have to go to.”

 

…

 

Roman burst out laughing when Baron showed up with his lone suit in a hanging bag. “ _Fuck_ you, Reigns, I ain’t having your shit. Will it work or do I need to hit up a Goodwill?” Baron grumbled.

 

Roman took the suitcoat (which looked at _least_ three sizes too big), turning it this way and that. “When did you wear this last? It’s _gigantic_.” He teased.

 

“The funeral.”

 

_Oh_. Roman felt like an absolute _ass_. “Shit, Baron-”

 

“S’okay.” Baron twiddled his fingers while he sat on the edge of the bed and oh _God_ Roman was obviously a total dick. He dropped the jacket on the bed and shuffled across the bedspread to Baron, apologetically resting his head on Baron’s thigh. Corbin flinched at the contact, relaxing after a second and stroking a hand over Roman’s hair. “I told you it’s okay, Roman.”

 

“Yeah, but is it?” Roman asked softly.

 

“Mhm. Now what are we going to do about my suit? I assume from your reaction it’s not exactly up to par.” Baron rumpled his hair and Roman knew, muscle memory filling in his blanks, that he was forgiven for his gaffe.

 

“I’ll look up tailors or something. We may just opt for a whole new suit, though. How’s the knees in it? Worn?”

 

Baron grimaced, picking up the pants. “I mean, these aren’t _actually_ the suit pants, but they kind of matched so I just wear them together.”

 

“Oh God, okay, abandon it.” Roman was already on his phone, trying to figure out which establishment would be more pliant when it came to last minute miracles. “We need you to look ready to _murder_ , not swimming and mismatched.”

 

“Do you really…I mean, do you think this is a good idea?” Baron asked quietly.

 

“ _Hell_ no, that’s why it’s going to be _amazing_.” Roman replied, startling a chuckle out of Baron. “C’mon, get showered. You’re coming with me and we’re taking care of this.”

 

“Hey, I…thanks. For doing this. I know it’s kind of a gamble and I just…I appreciate that you’re sticking your neck out here.” Baron kissed the top of Roman’s head. “Also I didn’t really bring any other clothes, maybe I should skip-”

 

“I’ll loan you something of mine, no worries.”

 

Roman probably should have thought that through. All his pants were _far_ too short for the long-legged Baron, and his _shirts!_ Baron ended up sitting in his towel, red-faced with laughter as Roman helplessly dug through his luggage for the fourth time.

 

“No, I promised! I’m _clothing_ you, damn it all!” Roman huffed, throwing another tank top at the snickering man behind him.

 

“Okay, we’ll compromise. I’ll wear one of your weird…muscle shirts, steal a pair of your boxers and wear my own pants. Sound good?”

 

“They’re not _weird_ , Florida is _hot!_ ” Roman protested. “You’re weird for thinking that they’re weird.”

 

Baron rumpled his hair again. His smile was fond, if a little weak. “Nope, big dog, pretty sure _you’re_ the weird one. Boxers?”

 

Roman watched idly while Baron got dressed. The stretch marks on his stomach and sides stood out prominently as he moved. _Fifteen years_. Roman wondered what else he’d missed, wondered whether Baron would talk with him about it. They had kind of lunged headlong into…whatever this was. A relationship? One that started backwards, and was fueled by Roman’s _father_ of all things? It was a bit irritating that even _here_ , his old man’s influence was present.

 

“ _You are_ _ **you**_ _, you’re not him. Not if I can fucking help it._ ”

 

Roman shook his head at himself, then started as a large hand caught his jaw and tilted his head up. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed Baron cross the room to him.

 

“Hey big dog, stop thinkin’ so much, okay?” Baron requested. “Also why the hell do you wear size _tiny_ boxers? I mean granted, it makes me feel like I have a fucking _anaconda_ between my legs, but I’m kind of used to my breathing room, man.” Roman was stunned silent by _that_ mental image, and he was pretty sure his face was priceless. After a second Baron made a noise in his throat that wasn’t quite a growl, _smirking_ at Roman. “Uh oh, someone _thought_ about that shit huh?”

 

“Was I not supposed to?” Roman asked, surprised when Baron kissed him square on the mouth.

 

“Mm, no, definitely no problems with you thinkin’ about it.” Baron fucking _winked_ at him and then held out his hand. “C’mon, you’ve got a giant to get suited up.”

 

…

 

Baron wanted to be annoyed at the waste of time this was. But Roman’s eyes constantly on him mellowed most of the irritation, kept him from losing his temper with the energetic young man who was _insistent_ that he hold still while he was measured.

 

That and the idea of looking anywhere _near_ as dangerous as Roman in a suit. Something about getting pressed and dressed sent a thrill down Baron’s spine. The notion of being so well-suited that he would instantly command the attention of whatever room he entered was foreign and _exciting_. He didn’t know if he wanted to _always_ wear suits and shit like that, but just this once…just this once.

 

Plus, the shocked look on the face of Roman’s father would be a thousand times sweeter if he was _literally_ dressed to kill. Baron could hardly contain his glee, just thinking about what was to come. Roman, entertainingly enough, seemed almost as giddy as Baron over this whole prospect, grinning before asking for a specific cut of suit with “blood red lining, not like mine, the darker red. No, not fucking _burgundy_. Like-“ Roman gathered Baron’s hair up out of the way, gesturing at the deep red of the mark he had made. “-as close to that as you can get, yeah?”

 

The tailor (who had introduced himself to them as Enzo) nodded so quickly it made Baron’s own neck sore and tapped out a few notes on his tablet. “There is a large suit of that cut we have on standby, Cass likes him a variety, yeah? With a little luck we should have it ready by eight o’ clock tomorrow morning.” He promised, making the most entertaining squawking noise when Baron carefully moved him aside.

 

“’Scuse me. Can I get my coat, big dog?” Corbin asked, catching the hoodie Roman tossed him and searching for his wallet in the pockets.

 

“Ah ah, my treat.” Roman said, and Baron looked up to see the other man slipping _his_ wallet into his pocket. “Nice try, squirt.”

 

“But I-“ Baron started to protest, feeling something in his gut twist.

 

“No buts. You’re doing me an enormous favor just by being around. This is the least I can do.” Roman continued firmly, scrolling through the options they’d selected on the tablet and then signing at the bottom with his finger. “Eight o’ clock. We’ll be here at seven forty-five.”

 

“You got it man. I-I mean, sir. Uh, Mr. Reigns.” Enzo fumbled, looking like he wanted to vanish into the floor. Baron pitied him just a little, he would probably be all worked up about his slip for the rest of the day. The younger man didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that Roman didn’t give a damn.

 

“Besides, you paid for drinks and food last night, yeah? Don’t worry so much.” Roman slid his arm through Baron’s, resting his head on the taller man’s shoulder for a second as they exited the shop.

 

Baron grumbled under his breath. “I just don’t want to be whatever your dad _thought_ I was. Don’t wanna’ sponge off you.” He easily pilfered his wallet out of Roman’s back pocket, wondering how long it would take the other man to notice.

 

“You were never like that before, I don’t see why you’d change now. I mean yeah, fifteen years, but c’mon.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Let’s get dinner. Recommend me someplace, oh rural local.”

 

“Rural…you _ass_ , like we _didn’t_ just walk out of a fuckin’ bridal shop in the middle of a shopping plaza. Goddamn you’re ridiculous.” Baron wanted to be exasperated, he really did. But something about the way Roman’s eyes softened when he looked at him kept his annoyance tamped down. “Alright, _Mr. Reigns_ , I’ll do my best. You’ll have to pardon my lack of refinement, I am just a simple country fuckin’ bumpkin after all.” He said dryly, making Roman snort with laughter. “I mean, should I whip out my overalls now, or save them for the bedroom? I can spit too, should you so desire, oh city slicker of mine.”

 

“Please, I surrender, oh God my sides.” Roman wheezed. “I hate that I forgot how funny you can be.”

 

“I’m _hurt_ that you did! My pride has been wounded, Roman.” Baron could barely remember the times he’d get Roman into laughing _fits_ , mocking their teachers over his own massive pile of homework. Everything was so simple then. “Sami’s should be open at this point, it’s late enough. Follow your trusty _rural local_ , Reigns.”

 

Helluva Bite was a retired caboose that had been repurposed into a restaurant, nestled on a street corner within walking distance of the plaza. Baron had to duck his head essentially the whole time he was there due to the low ceiling, but the food was so good he barely gave a shit. El Generico’s Gyros had been a favorite haunt of the Ambrose Tows crew, so when Zayn bought the place and _somehow_ kept the old menu intact, it had been a Big Fucking Deal.

 

Sami was a guy who seemed perpetually good-natured, with a ginger beard and warm brown eyes. His propensity to play Against Me! over the tinny speakers of the computer that also served as the register was a _little_ obnoxious, but Baron figured he could have much worse music as the soundtrack to his lunch. So it was into this humble establishment he entered, with Roman in tow.

 

And came face to face with Slater and Dean. Baron half-grinned ruefully as Heath wolf-whistled and Dean snickered into his sandwich. “Heya’ hot stuff, this your man?” Heath asked, raising an eyebrow. “I figured there might have been somethin’ up the other night, what with how close he was watchin’ you fillet.” He teased, and Baron was surprised at how red Roman went.

 

“He’s got skills, no doubt about that.” Roman mumbled, seeming almost shy.

 

“Oh I don’t think my _skill_ was ever in question.” Baron drawled. “Roman, I’d like you to officially meet Heath Slater, my begrudging sugar daddy. Also, my boss, Dean Ambrose.”

 

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Slater said, laying that accent on _thick_ and offering Roman a sketchy bow.

 

Roman body language relaxed a little bit and he shook Heath’s hand. “The pleasure’s all mine. However, I regret to inform you that _Baron_ is all mine now as well, so your services are no longer needed.” The words had a tinge of teasing in them, but not enough to totally disarm the statement.

 

_Christ_. Stern, possessive Roman Reigns got Baron’s stomach doing _backflips_. Slater laughed, slapping Roman on the shoulder. “I like you, man! Take your bullshit and give it twice as hard, yeah?”

 

“Dean. I employ Big Banter here. And supply his coffee.” Ambrose said, wiping his hand off on his jeans and extending it to Roman. “Nice to meet the guy who gave him the shiner on his neck, plus that stupid shit-eating grin he had all morning.”

 

“Damn, talk about me like I’m not even here why don’t you?” Baron grumbled, slouching into the seat beside Dean and getting surprised by a peck on the cheek from Roman as the other man sauntered by. “What was that for?”

 

“Just because.” Roman folded his hands on the counter, looking up at the chalkboard menu with a serious expression. “What does the chef recommend?”

 

“I mean, I’m partial to the good ol’ fashioned poutine gyro, but if…” Zayn trailed off as he entered the area behind the counter from the kitchen, dropping the towel he’d been wiping his hands off with and staring at Roman nearly slack-jawed. “The younger M-Mr. Reigns! I…er, hello!”

 

“ _Relax_ Sami, he’s with me today. Just an average Joe, here for a badass sandwich and some of those fuckin’ delicious fries you make. Gravy optional.” Baron tried to calm the obviously-panicking restaurant owner, shooting Roman an apologetic look.

 

“Baron said this place came highly recommended. I _love_ the whole railcar-diner idea, it’s almost like a grassroots movement in a way. Are you solar supplemented or anything like that?” Roman slid into the business role so quickly it made Baron’s head spin, the friend he knew nearly fading out of existence. The only thing that seemed to stay the same was Roman’s hand resting carefully on Baron’s thigh, as if to assure him that he was still there.

 

Sami practically _exploded_ with excitement. Baron regretted now all the times he’d turned Sami down when the other man had offered to teach him about stocks or business growth or other boring shit, because he felt _supremely_ awkward sitting here with fucking _gravy_ dribbling off his chin while Roman and Zayn chatted. The two of them were almost as animated as Mauro got on Fight Night, little sketches on napkins going back and forth across the counter. So much “ _but you have to wonder about the ramifications_ ” and “ _recycling will only go so far_ ” and “ _have you thought of_ ”.

 

Roman finally patted at his pockets, moving for his wallet to pay. _There_ was Baron’s opening. The taller man snagged Roman’s wrist and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for a needy kiss while he pulled out his wallet. “My treat.” Baron breathed as Roman stared up at him with unfocused eyes.

 

“B-But–“

 

“Nope.” Baron said firmly, passing his card to a furiously-blushing Sami. “That suit is probably worth a dozen meals.”

 

“I didn’t buy it for you so you could worry about _repaying_ me, Baron.” Roman protested.

 

Baron nodded. “I know.” He answered simply, kissing Roman on the forehead.

 

Baron just held Roman that night, fingers stroking through the other man’s thick hair. Roman groaned and shifted against him when he started, eyes already trying to close. “Big day tomorrow, Roman.” Baron said softly.

 

“Mm, you oughta’ sleep.” Roman mumbled as he curled into Baron’s lap, lifting his shirt a little and fucking _kissing his stomach_ , mouthing over the stretch marks like they didn’t even weird him out.

 

Baron kind of hated it a tiny bit. The way Roman could so easily accept the changes that _had_ happened, could still recognize him even though he’d grown to be the size of a moose and his weight had fluctuated wildly after his mother passed away.

 

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about?” Roman murmured.

 

Baron shook his head, carrying on fingercombing Roman’s hair. “Nothin’ important.”

 

…

 

Baron was obviously antsy as Roman straightened his tie for the final time. “What if he-”

 

“What’s he going to do, _really_ Baron? You’re my friend. The worst he’ll do is tell you to leave. And then I’ll come with you.” Roman smiled easily at the larger man.

 

“Really? Even if he yells at you or something? What if he gets pissed off with _you_ , Roman? I don’t want anythin’ to happen to you because of me, y’know?” Baron said, nervously fidgeting with his pants pockets.

 

Roman rolled his eyes. “He’s a little old to try and kick my ass. Besides, we’ll be in enemy territory. He’s got no control over their security. So we’re golden. This is going to be _amazing_.” He insisted, making Baron half-smile hesitantly.

 

“You think so? Oh God, how dumb is this going to be if he doesn’t even remember me?”

 

Roman snorted, gesturing up and down the other man’s body. “Squirt, who the _hell_ could forget all of _this?_ ”

 

“ _You_ didn’t even know that it was me!” Baron protested.

 

“Your eyes are the same! Also I cheated with your name patch. That’s not the point! The _point_ is that this is going to probably be the most poetic revenge you’ll ever get and I wish I could film it.”

 

Baron startled Roman with a quick, one-armed hug. “Alright big dog. I…I think I’m ready.” His tone indicated otherwise and Roman took a minute to pull him into a _real_ hug. Baron relaxed in his arms, resting his cheek on Roman’s shoulder and nuzzling his nose into the other man’s neck.

 

“You’re going to be amazing.” Roman said firmly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. Looking just as goofy as you do, like an eighties-style tough guy.” He grinned. “Let’s do this, squirt.”

 

Baron looked a little more at ease when he nodded, unable to keep from chuckling when Roman handed him a pair of sunglasses. “ _Seriously?_ I thought you were joking about the indoor sunglasses thing.”

 

“Hell no, I wish I was! C’mon, we’re going to be late if we keep this up.” Roman slid on his shades, tugging them down his nose to wink at the other man. “ _Incredibly_ stylish.”

 

“I am _not_ gonna’ be able to see.”

 

Roman’s mind ran rampant the whole time he was driving them to meet with his father. He could hardly wait for this, could hardly wait for the moment when his dad would be stunned silent. Mr. Reigns had a tendency to assume shit _wouldn’t_ bite him in the ass, years of hard-earned experience working in his favor. But he’d _never_ had to combat anything like this, never had to deal with a ghost of the past that had found their way back.

 

Baron’s bouncing knee assured Roman that the taller man was just as excited as he was, fists clenched on his thighs and back ramrod straight. “I can’t believe this is happening.” Baron finally said softly. “I can’t even…thank you. Thank you for doing this, thank you for getting a shitty rental, thank you for not giving up on me.” He rushed the words out, like he was scared he’d lose his nerve. “Just another thing you’ll do for me, I guess. I wish I could fucking repay you for all the times you gave me a place to study, or when you were my friend even though no one else wanted to be.”

 

“Hey, don’t get all mushy on me now man. Remember, you have to scare the shit out of my dad.” Roman teased, taking Baron’s hand and squeezing it before letting go again. “Thank you for being _my_ friend, even though I was really dumb and probably annoying as hell.”

 

Baron squinted up at the large office building in front of them. “The _Wyatt_ Corporation? You guys…your dad is really trying to get in bed with _them?_ ”

 

“Yeah, he’s more interested in gutting and quick selling than actually working _with_ them though. He says Mr. Wyatt is unnerving to be around. Personally I’m a little more interested in _where_ the company came from and I feel like my dad may be biting off more than he can chew with this one. He always says I’m paranoid.” Roman figured there was no harm in voicing his suspicions to Baron, _especially_ if the other man had any sort of local input on the situation.

 

Baron, however, just shrugged in reply. Then, he went dead still. Roman followed his line of eyesight to his father entering the building and Baron started fucking _rumbling_ under his breath like an angry mutt. “ _Easy_ , squirt. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you now. Can’t do anything to me either while you’re around. We’ll take care of each other, right?”

 

Baron nodded jerkily, opening the car door and straightening his suitcoat out with a snap of his wrist. He looked… _ready_ , looked like he _belonged_ in a boardroom. Roman was impressed with the tailoring _and_ the man filling out the suit, saying as much and chuckling when Baron flushed.

 

The taller man began fumbling with his hair as they headed across the parking lot and Roman put a hand on his arm. “Relax. This is your big moment, squirt. Don’t waste it worrying about your damn hair.”

 

“You…yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” Baron grunted, giving Roman a quick, grateful smile. “Thanks, big dog.”

 

“Let’s do this.” Roman straightened his own jacket out and then opened the door of the office building.

 

First to the secretary’s desk, check in with Lana and get a badge. Then to the elevator, ride up two floors to where the conference rooms were. Roman could _feel_ nervous energy coming off Baron in waves.

 

And the elevator doors slid open and Mr. Reigns was standing there, looking irritated. “Roman, how often do I have to say that you need to be on damn _time?_ ” The older man scolded, moving aside so they could exit. “And that’s the same suit you wore last time! Honestly, it’s as if you don’t even try anymore.”

 

His criticism was met with Roman’s usual impassive expression. Roman had learned ages ago that his father didn’t want debates, didn’t want arguments. _Take your correction and be on your way_.

 

Mr. Reigns nodded finally, seeming satisfied. He extended a hand to Baron, raising an eyebrow. “And you are…?”

 

_Let the games begin_.

 

Baron, to his credit, replied in a tone that was almost customer-service sweet as he shook Mr. Reigns’ hand. “Baron Corbin. I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

 

Roman watched the play of emotions go whipping across his father’s face before the older man’s eyes darted to him, then focused on something behind them. “Bray! Good to see you again. Not getting cold feet, are we?” Mr. Reigns pushed past his son and Baron, moving to greet Bray Wyatt and his own flock of lackeys. Braun, Erick and Luke were all larger men, with thick beards. They were also _weirdly_ silent.

 

“The Misters Reigns, always an honor to host you fine gentlemen. _And_ there’s a familiar face with you, hello Mr. Corbin.” Bray’s eyes narrowed. “Been a while since your oversized self has darkened my doorway. How’s that _father_ of yours?”

 

“We don’t talk.” Baron bit the words out curtly. “How’s that _sister_ of yours?”

 

“Quiet, as always. So difficult to get ahold of.” Bray’s eyes had somehow narrowed even _further_ , icy blue slits in his face.

 

Oh, Roman was fucking _curious_ now, doing his best to seem bored. Normally he didn’t have to pretend, but obviously something had happened here. He still hated that his brain _instantly_ jumped to ex-girlfriend.

 

His father clearly felt incredibly awkward witnessing the exchange, clearing his throat after a minute and coughing. Bray snapped his attention to the older man, his smile back. “So sorry, Mr. Corbin and I will have to… _catch up_ some other time. There are a few terms that I wanted to go over again with you here in person, if you don’t mind?”

 

“Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I?” Mr. Reigns said testily. Roman fell into step beside Baron, not missing the way the taller man watched Bray’s own escorts. There was a wariness in Baron’s body language that Roman was almost _jealous_ of; the taller man gave off the air of a loaded gun. Roman doubted he’d ever looked quite so imposing or alert, well-cut suit or no.

 

Baron tilted his head down, just barely. “Be ready.” Was all he said out of the side of his mouth, softly enough that only Roman heard it.

 

Roman wanted to ask what the _hell_ was going on, but Bray finally stopped beside a door and opened the conference room, waving everyone inside. Roman was thrilled when Baron followed his lead and took up a post beside the door. Roman eased into his usual stance, watching Luke and Braun like a hawk. They seemed to be the ones he _should_ worry about, not that he could exactly discount Erick. But all three of them hovered around Mr. Wyatt and his father, making Roman’s skin crawl.

 

Meanwhile Baron seemed cool as a cucumber beside him, shoulders relaxed and hands loose. Roman wished he could look so calm. He knew that it was better that Baron had warned him shit could go belly up, but he hated feeling so wound.

 

The nod from Bray was something that Roman was sure he wouldn’t have noticed any other day. Baron snapped _immediately_ to attention and then Erick wrapped an arm around Mr. Reigns’ neck, hauling him backwards from the table.

 

“You thought I wouldn’t figure it out, _Mr. Reigns?_ ” Bray spat, all niceties gone now. “Your reputation precedes you. Going to trim the _fat_ off my damn business and then flip it, sell me to the highest bidder like a _pig_ on auction day. You’d best tell your boy that you want to be safe and whole at the end of this. If there’s any _funny business_ from your thugs I know Erick won’t hesitate to put you in a world of pain.”

 

“Dad!” Roman went to move, to lunge, _something_ , and Baron grabbed his arm.

 

“What part of ‘ _no funny business_ ’ do you not understand?” Baron hissed, essentially muscling Roman still.

 

“Smart man, Baron. ‘Course, you know what I can do.” Bray praised with a smirk.

 

“If your ginger _fuckwad_ leaves so much as a bruise on that old man you will be _very sorry_. Relax your grip Rowan, he’s not going to be able to sign anything if he’s unconscious.” Baron’s voice was even, monotone. “We’re moving to the other side of the table.”

 

_Christ_ , if Roman had thought he was tense before, this was a whole new level of shit. _Dad-!_

 

“Why are you so _terrible_ at negotiating, Wyatt? You’re the most educated out of your brood but it always comes down to this.” Baron pointed out, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stood at the conference table across from Bray. “Always comes down to you strong-arming with your clusterfuck of a family. Don’t they have seminars for shit like that? Motivational speakers? _Somethin’_.” Baron’s smile was a snarl. “Like when you came to try and take Dallas back.”

 

“That _boy_ doesn’t understand his place!” Bray erupted, slamming a fist on the table. “He belongs here, with his family! Not in some _greasy_ , filthy bunkhouse with the _dregs_ of society!”

 

Baron nodded sagely, as if he agreed with Wyatt. Bray opened his mouth like he was going to continue his tirade and Baron fucking _launched_ himself over the table at Erick and Mr. Reigns. Roman bolted around the side, all but ripping his father from Erick’s slackened grasp as Baron rained blows on the large redhead. “Go, _go!_ ” Baron yelled, gesturing towards the door.

 

Roman didn’t think, he just grabbed his father’s arm and _ran_ to the hallway. “Can you manage the stairs?” He asked frantically, hearing the conference room door bang open again behind them.

 

“Not so fast, little Reigns!” _Huge_ arms wrapped around Roman’s ribs, lifting him off the ground and tearing him away from his father.

 

“ _Dad!_ ” Roman choked through the stranglehold on his body, driving his elbow back into Braun’s stomach. “Run Dad, run!”

 

“But Roman-!”

 

“ _Run!_ ” Roman shouted, kicking and struggling in Braun’s grip. “Get outside, move it!” Braun covered his face with one large hand, slapping Roman when he tried to bite.

 

The fact that his father actually looked _torn_ was comforting.

 

…

 

“You need tougher assholes to follow you around.” Baron snorted, standing over Erick’s unconscious form. Luke started forward but Bray caught his arm.

 

“What do you want, Corbin? What’s your heart’s desire?” He asked. The venom in his words trickled into Baron’s ears, into his _brain_ like always. He had never really learned how to tune him out fully. But at least now he could see it for what it was.

 

“You can’t give me what I fucking want, _Bray_.” Baron spat. “No one can. She’s fucking gone.” He knew he needed to keep Bray talking, keep him occupied. So he gritted his teeth and dug in. “You’re never getting your brother back, and your sister is apparently happier being my dad’s ‘secret on the side’ than she ever was with your _family_ , which kind of speaks volumes about this little establishment.”

 

“Abigail is-!” Luke was silenced by Bray shoving him aside and getting _right_ in Baron’s face.

 

“Corbin, Corbin, little prison baby, you’re _hardly_ in a position to talk. You who proudly bear the ink of the dead on your arm, always so eager to rush headlong into danger you cannot understand. You’re a man livin’ on time you don’t even _want_. I remember our little scuffle when I came to collect my brother.” Bray sneered. “You’d been there what, two days? You hadn’t even _worked_ with Bo and yet there you were, standin’ in front of him like a mother wolf protectin’ your pups.”

 

“He was scared. I’m big.” Baron’s smirk was decidedly mean. “Wish I could have fixed your face a little more.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, _boy_. You and I both know that you haven’t wanted to live since your mother passed away. You just keep fadin’, keep temptin’ fate into takin’ you out for good.” Bray shook his head. “Ain’t nothin’ sadder than a lamed creature beggin’ to be put down.”

 

“You shut the fuck up.” Baron growled, his fists clenching.

 

“Or what, you dumb _animal?_ You’ll hit me?”

 

“Worked pretty good last time, I think. When I had you spitting up your own teeth out in the parking lot. Remember?” Baron asked, Bray’s expression indicating that oh yes, he _definitely_ remembered. “Near as I can figure the score is dumb animal one, and you goddamn _zero_.” Baron wanted to laugh at how red Bray got at _that_.

 

“You _insolent_ , oversized _cretin!_ ” Bray raged, grabbing Baron’s lapels. “You’ll burn in hell for every fuckin’ thing you’ve done to my family, you hear me boy? Eternal fuckin’ damnation is too kind for the likes of you!”

 

“Very true.” Baron agreed, letting Bray shake him back and forth like a rag doll. “I was thinking more of a never-ending purgatory style thing.”

 

Bray had officially _lost_ _his temper_ , spit flying as he ranted at Baron, called him every terrible thing in the book. Baron could barely keep the bemused expression off his face. Every second he kept his cool was another second that they were closer to having the police notified, to them getting out intact.

 

“Do you let him talk to _you_ like this?” Baron asked Harper when Bray paused for breath. Luke looked startled. “I mean this is some abusive shit, Harper. You safe here, man?”

 

“Be _quiet!_ ” Bray demanded. “You scum of the earth, you-“

 

“Look, you can’t really blame the _son_ for who the dad decides to dick down. C’mon Bray, be reasonable.” Baron protested. Bray punched him in the jaw for that one. Braun came thundering back through the doorway of the conference room, toting a Roman who appeared to be in the _tightest_ bear hug known to man. Baron did his best to mask his terror because _holy shit Roman_ and he hadn’t had the pleasure of playing with Strowman yet, didn’t know how screwed he might be. “Easy big fella’, what’d you do with his old man?”

 

“Bray, he got away.” Braun grunted while Roman struggled and threw his elbows wildly, still trying to fight back. Wyatt started losing his goddamn mind, tearing at his hair as Braun just stood there, holding Roman.

 

“I see you haven’t found anyone smarter than the average middle-schooler to do your dirty work.” Baron snorted, not even bothering to fight his smile. Bray _shrieked_ and turned on Baron like a cornered animal, knocking him over and punching him square in the nose before Baron could get his hands up. Baron dimly heard Roman screaming his name while Bray straddled his chest, fist cocked back for yet another swing and–

 

And Baron still had his goddamn _knife_.

 

Everyone froze except for Roman, still straining to escape Braun’s hold. Baron slid the blade beneath Bray’s beard, grazing his chin. “You wanna’ keep playing this game, Wyatt?” Baron snarled. His nose was bleeding but it didn’t _feel_ broken. “Your mountain man _motherfucker_ is gonna’ let go of Reigns. Reigns walks to me real slow like. Then, you’re going to release the both of us. Or, I’ll ruin my nice new suit with your _arterial spurts_.” He dug the flat of the blade in as a warning, pricking Bray’s skin. “ _Deal?_ ”

 

Bray swallowed hard and Baron watched the fight ebb from him, watched the fire in his eyes die out. “Let go of Mr. Reigns, Braun.” Strowman immediately dropped Roman, stepping back.

 

“You alright, Roman?” Baron asked, not daring to turn his head and check.

 

“Think a few of my ribs and my face could be fucking better. You?” Roman loomed over him, holding his side. Baron grinned up at him in relief, getting to his feet and hauling Bray with him.

 

“I tell you what, if all your meetings go like this it’s no wonder you’re so shredded. Ah ah, back the fuck up.” Baron waved the knife in Braun’s direction. “Don’t want your bossman getting his throat slit. He’s my insurance until we get to the foyer, you got that?”

 

“Fuck’s sake Braun, don’t _test_ the man.” Bray scolded frantically. “Just stay here, boys. Tend to Rowan.”

 

Baron marched them to the elevator and just as the doors started to close he shoved Bray out with all his strength, sending him crashing into the hallway wall. He watched the other man’s eyes roll back in his head, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors fully shut and the elevator started downward.

 

“Holy _shit!_ ” Roman exploded, whirling and catching Baron off-guard with a tight hug. “Are you alright? Are you okay?!”

 

“Yeah, m’ fine. Don’t worry so much, Roman.” Baron chuckled as Roman fucking _squeezed_ him around the waist.

 

“You’re bleeding, your nose…” Roman fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief, dabbing at the blood on Baron’s face. Baron grabbed his hand, stilling his motion.

 

“We need to be ready to run. I don’t know whether they’ll book it down the stairs to head us off. You good?”

 

Roman nodded, a little pale. “I hope my dad got out safe.”

 

“Here’s hoping.” Baron exhaled hard when the elevator dinged. “ _Go!_ ” They scrambled across the foyer and emerged into the gray, pouring rain of the parking lot. Which was _brilliantly_ illuminated by numerous police cruisers, red and blue lights nearly blinding Baron.

 

“ _Roman!_ ” Mr. Reigns seemed close to tears, the older man looking absolutely bedraggled as he clung desperately to his child. “Oh my son, my son, are you hurt? Look at your _face_ , I need a doctor! A doctor for my son, _someone!_ ” Baron was startled when Mr. Reigns grabbed his hand, tugging him close as well. “You-”

 

“Mr. Reigns, he’s coming with us.” Baron was abruptly handcuffed and slammed down on the hood of a cruiser, the sudden motion sending a jolt of pain through his already sore jaw. “Nice try, Corbin Junior. Your dad in cahoots with the Wyatts now?”

 

Baron bit his tongue, recognizing the raspy voice of Police Chief McMahon. For _whatever_ reason the Chief seemed to believe Baron was a bad apple just like his father, despite the younger man not having racked up so much as a _parking violation_ in his life. Baron got a sinking feeling in his stomach and he wondered if this was really it. Mr. Reigns would probably implicate him, and there was no way Bray would let him walk free if there was the _slightest_ chance of getting him locked up. Baron closed his eyes in defeat, the metal of the car hood still warm against his cheek.

 

_I don’t care what trumped-up charges I have to use,_ _ **boy**_ , _you_ _ **will**_ _stay away from my son!_

 

“No, what are you doing?” Mr. Reigns sounded legitimately confused. Baron’s eyes shot open. He hardly dared to hope. “It’s not _him_ , it’s that damn Bray! Get inside and _do your job_ , officer!” Mr. Reigns snapped, “This young man saved my life, saved the life of my son, how _dare_ you put your hands on him like this! Let him go _at once!_ ”

 

“Mr. Reigns-”

 

The elderly Mr. Reigns drew himself up to his full height, hollering in the police chief’s face. “I will have you _fired_ , hired and then _fired_ again, do you hear me?! Get your officers inside that building and arrest the _real_ culprits, that bastard Wyatt and his idiotic cohorts!” It would have been a comical sight any other time, Baron was sure of it. But right now he sort of felt like he might cry.

 

…

 

Roman was pretty sure that hell had frozen over. Maybe he had imagined the words that came out of his father’s mouth?

 

But no, the old officer was unlocking Baron’s cuffs, grumbling the whole while and then roughly knocking Baron’s head back into the hood before letting him go. Baron straightened up, body language wary.

 

“Dad…?” Roman began softly. His father shushed him, obviously focused on Baron.

 

“Why?” Mr. Reigns asked finally.

 

“Because I ain’t the kind of son my dad can be proud of.” Baron replied evenly. “And I’m perfectly fine with that failure.” He looked _ridiculous_ , his hair all over the place, nose bloodied and jaw scraped. But serious, so damn serious. “I came here today with revenge on my mind. I’m sure you put that together.” Baron gestured at Roman. “When you ripped us apart…”

 

“It was selfish of me.” Mr. Reigns admitted. Hell had _definitely_ frozen over. “To take the boy…to take my _son_ from his only friend. I worried about the amount of time he spent with you. I was so sure you were corrupting him.”

 

“I was the kid of a felon. I understand. Even if I don’t agree with it.” Baron said quietly.

 

“No. It was inexcusable. I…you kept my son grounded in his younger years. Without you he _needed_ me, needed my guidance. Yet here we are all these years later, you standing in front of me as the bigger man.” Mr. Reigns smiled thinly. “Literally _and_ figuratively, I suppose.” He extended a hand. “Will you forgive an old man his terrible mistakes?”

 

Roman held his breath, watching Baron’s eyes fall to his father’s hand. He could practically hear the gears turning in Baron’s mind, see the memories playing out in vivid color. He wouldn’t blame Baron in the slightest if he didn’t shake his father’s hand. The hurt had been _deep_.

 

“…Alright.”

 

Hell had apparently thawed out only to re-freeze _again_ because here was Baron, clasping Mr. Reigns’ hand in his own and gripping his forearm like he’d done this a thousand times. Roman was pretty sure his eyebrows reached his hairline. It had been ages since he’d heard his father laugh and Roman was a _little_ jealous that Baron was the one to make it happen. His envy vanished when his father pulled both him and Baron into a tight hug.

 

“My son, you were so brave in there! I’ve never been more proud in my life.” Mr. Reigns said firmly, making Roman close his eyes and hug him a little tighter.

 

“Thanks Dad.”

 

“Um, Mr. Reigns? Sorry, we just need you guys to answer a few questions while the officers sweep the building.” The officer speaking opened a large umbrella, Baron stooping to fit underneath it.

 

“About time, I’m only soaked to the skin.” Mr. Reigns grumbled. “Ask your damn questions.”

 

Roman was relatively certain that his father wouldn’t have even _bothered_ sticking around for this part, aside from the fact that the police chief obviously had it out for Baron. His recounting of events was treated as _gospel_ , the influence of money and power present even here. Finally, _finally_ everything had been done, signed and initialed. Bray and his posse were brought out in cuffs, eerily calm and collected as they were shuffled into various cruisers and sent on their merry way.

 

The young officer (who was apparently named Tyler) walked them to Mr. Reigns’ rental and the older man paused before dismissing the officer. “Well boys, I don’t know about you two but I am _famished_. Do we need to go to a hospital, or can I treat you to a late lunch?”

 

Roman glanced at Baron, who still had an alarmingly red trickle of blood oozing out of his nose. Baron snuffled, looking at Roman. “You okay, big dog? How’s your ribs?”

 

“Oh _I’m_ fine, squirt. _You’re_ the one I’m worried about.” Roman said, taking out his handkerchief to mop up some of the blood on Baron’s upper lip. “He got you pretty good, huh?”

 

“I’ve had worse.” Baron didn’t protest being cleaned up like a small child despite the toughness of his statement, brown eyes half-closed as he leaned into Roman’s touch. “When he came to try and take Bo away…well, I mean, we both gave as good as we got. I just kept all my teeth in my head.” His almost-smile was lazy.

 

“So lunch it is. Any suggestions?” Mr. Reigns asked.

 

Roman grinned. “I have one.”

 

All the color drained out of Sami’s face when Roman entered the diner, his father and Baron in tow. Baron still had the handkerchief pressed to his nose.

 

“Big Banter! What’s–and you brought–oh _gosh_ , okay, I um…” Sami dissolved into gibberish, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he realized _who_ was behind Roman.

 

“Sami, Mr. Reigns. Mr. Reigns, Sami Zayn, proprietor of this fine establishment. Also makes a damn good sandwich.” Baron sounded _beyond_ hysterical, essentially speaking through the fabric of the handkerchief. “Sami, could I get a cup of ice and a dish towel or somethin’? Gotta’ calm this down.”

 

“Oh God, yeah, of course. I–y-yeah, I’ll be right back.” Sami scrambled to obey. “What the heck even _happened_ to you guys?”

 

“Wyatt Corps, what else?” Baron grunted, wincing as he traded the handkerchief for a soggy dish towel full of ice chunks.

 

“Oh no, for Dallas again?”

 

“A business deal gone _very_ wrong.” Mr. Reigns answered, taking a seat next to his son at the counter. “What does the chef recommend?”

 

Roman heard Baron snort on the other side of him. _Like father, like son._ “He told me the poutine gyro, a little messy though.”

 

“But _delicious_.” Baron added, winking at Roman over his father’s head. “Well worth the dribbles, ultimate comfort food.”

 

It _was_ very entertaining to watch his dad try his hardest to keep the gravy off of his tie.

 

…

 

“I’m _fine_.” Baron protested as Roman unbuttoned his shirt for him and helped him out of it. “Seriously Roman, I-”

 

“Just let me do this.” Roman grumbled.

 

Baron caught him with a deep kiss, carefully tilting his head to protect his battered nose. Roman was still trying to talk so Baron fucking _tore_ his button-down shirt off his shoulders, growling into Roman’s mouth. “I didn’t know what Strowman was gonna’…shit, _look_ at the bruises on your ribs.” Baron took his hands off Roman, worried now. “Christ, I’m sorry, I should have-”

 

“Shut up.” Roman’s tone was firm. “It was either me or my dad, and we both know that my dad probably would have been snapped in half.”

 

“I still can’t believe that he told off Chief McMahon for me, _wow_.” Baron chuckled, a little awestruck. “Things sure have changed.” He cupped Roman’s face, smiling like an _idiot_ but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. The day that was supposed to hold his most spectacular revenge was instead the day he forgave, the day he was vouched for by his old foe (if he could even _call_ Mr. Reigns that). It was odd, not feeling all twisted up inside anymore. No guilt gnawing at his gut, no unresolved anger hot in his belly. Just calm, peaceful. “We have had a fucking _day_ of it, Roman.”

 

“Yeah. You should definitely lay down and let me take care of you.” Roman suggested, grinning back at Baron. “Let the spoiled brat rich kid tend to his country bumpkin, yeah?”

 

“ _Why_ do you call me that, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Roman didn’t answer, tapping at the stars on Baron’s shoulders instead to get him to lay back on the bed. Baron obliged begrudgingly after a minute, fingers slotting over the bruises on Roman’s ribs. “Watching him hang onto you like you weighed nothing was some scary shit.” Baron admitted quietly, staring up at the ceiling as he felt Roman undo his belt. “Like you weren’t even trying to fight him. I don’t feel too helpless, usually. Comes with the _huge_ territory. But Braun…fuck that, man. Never again.”

 

“I’m okay with that idea.” Roman murmured, his lips pressing to the sensitive skin above Baron’s waistband. “Christ, you weren’t joking about my boxers. I mean you’re a pretty good-sized guy but _this_ is a little-”

 

“S’ kinda’ like I’m bein’ strangled by cotton.” Baron huffed out a breath when Roman cupped him greedily through the too-tight boxers, teasing thumb running over Baron’s shaft until the larger man started panting.

 

“I think you like it. Secretly. I bet you could get yourself off like this, couldn’t you? Just with the friction alone.” Roman fucking _purred_ and Baron swallowed hard. How the hell was it that Roman could read him so _easily_ , could have him bucking his hips shallowly up to the touch of that palm with nothing but a few words? It was uncanny, it was _unfair_.

 

“’Unno.” Baron managed to get out, “Never tried.”

 

“Mm, some other time.” Roman promised, nipping a wet trail down Baron’s chest, down his stomach. Baron gasped, unable to help the noise as his cock jumped in Roman’s hand and Roman pressed back, just as insistent but not _enough_. “Uh oh, someone _likes_ that, huh? Your cock fucking _twitching_ for it, begging when you won’t. I see you, I _see_ you Baron. Can’t hide anything from me, you never could.” Roman’s voice was fucking _beautiful_ , all low and smooth. It was a lulling sound with an edge, a gentle blade that slid between Baron’s ribs and drained the hollow out of his chest.

 

Baron dug his fingers into Roman’s hair, making the other man pause. “Hey. I…I um.” Baron stammered, unsure if he would kill the mood by saying what was on his mind.

 

Roman looked up at him curiously, still laying kisses on the skin directly above his cock. “You okay, squirt?” Baron bit his lip, feeling _stupid_ tears well up and then Roman was there, brushing them away with careful fingers, whispering, “ _you’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here_.” It wasn’t fucking _fair_ that Roman could do _everything_ for him.

 

“It’s not fair that I feel this way about you.” Baron tried to growl, tried to snarl, and it just came out as a weak hiccup. “It’s not fair that you can touch me and I want, I just _want_ and I don’t know what to do about it. Is…is it the same for _you_ when I touch you?” He asked, hoping even though he didn’t _want_ to, didn’t think he should.

 

Roman raised an eyebrow, taking Baron’s hand and moving it to rest over the zipper on his pants. Baron’s eyes widened at the feeling of Roman’s cock, straining the layers of fabric. “Trust me, the reaction is _very_ mutual.” Roman gave him a tight little smile. “Just don’t want your nose to start up again, yeah? May I carry on?” Baron nodded, still dazed, and Roman kissed his cheek. “Hands and knees. I’m going to prep you.”

 

_Oh_. It had been ages since Baron had been fucked, _legitimately_ fucked. He found himself nervous and then _whining_ out shakily when Roman peeled those tight boxers off.

 

“Shh, I’ve got you. You’re with me now, Baron. Head on the pillow, you don’t need to stress. I’m gonna’ take my time with you.” Roman whispered, giving his ass a light swat before leaving the bed momentarily.

 

_Christ_ he was generous with his lube. Baron had been all tense, waiting for that first push, but Roman was a man of his word. He was careful and slow almost to a fault, fingers working in lazy circles before breaching Baron equally slow. Baron was pretty sure he’d never had _this_ much time to get used to being fucked. Shit, he wasn’t usually this careful with _himself_ , never mind when someone else was with him.

 

Roman kept making these little sounds in his throat, satisfied noises that set Baron’s skin alight and had him tightening his grip on the pillow under his head. “One more? Or do you think you’re ready?” Roman asked, three fingers stroking and _twisting_ and he was _teasing_. Baron already wanted to come, hips stuttering and then Roman’s other hand was squeezing the base of his shaft _tight_ , making him groan. “Not yet, you said you wanted me to make you work for it, remember?”

 

“Roman p-please, I–please. M’ askin’ nicely.” Baron begged, turning his head so he could look over his shoulder. “Please, fuck, please _please_ Roman-”

 

Roman hushed him, smiling in a manner that was fucking _fond_ and it hit Baron in the chest again. “Gotta’ be tender with you, treat you right. I want you to hang around, y’know?” Roman murmured.

 

And how the _fuck_ could Baron explain that he was _his_ , he was _only_ Roman’s and nothing could possibly ever change that. He supposed that was how it had always been. Before he really understood that what he was feeling might be _love_ , not only gratitude or mutual respect. _Fifteen years_.

 

“I just have to wash my hands. I’ll be right back.” Roman kissed the small of his back and then headed to the bathroom. Baron had no idea _when_ he’d gotten his pants and boxers off but that was apparently a thing that had happened somewhere along the way.

 

The larger man stretched out, his sensitive dick sliding against the bedspread as he did. Baron groaned again, wondering with a little thrill whether he would be punished if he touched himself. He snuck a hand down his belly, rolling to his side as he palmed his cock lazily. He was teasing himself, nor really applying any sort of technique or pressure to satisfy his need. It was one of his favorite games to see how long he could hold off, just absently touching his dick.

 

Roman emerged from the bathroom and Baron knew that he was _not_ in for punishment, Roman settling onto the side of the bed to watch him. Baron finally reached boldly for Roman’s cock, letting it rest heavily in his hand while he played with himself.

 

“Like what you see?” Roman asked softly, chuckling when Baron nodded. “As nice as this is, I’d _really_ like to be in you when I come.” He breathed, his whole body quivering when Baron stroked him once (fucking _once!_ ). “If you’re okay with that. Please.”

 

“Yeah.” Baron rolled back onto his stomach, sighing and then _squirming_ against the bedspread as Roman mounted him, tugged him back into the junction of his hips. That thick cock prodded teasingly over Baron’s slick entrance, the head just _barely_ pushing in. Baron fucking _whimpered_ , laying his cheek on the pillow so he could sort-of watch Roman, watch his face as he fucked him for the first time.

 

Roman did _not_ disappoint, biting his lip as he slowly, _so_ fucking slowly buried his cock in Baron. “Oh God yes, _yes yes yes_ that’s it, breathe, _fuck_ , you’re so-” Roman’s words faded out momentarily as he came to a stop. He seemed almost startled that Baron had taken him all. “ _Fuck_ , look at _you_.” Roman praised, fucking _smiling_ at Baron again and oh _shit_ , Baron was absolutely fucked here in more ways than the obvious. “You’re amazing, you’re so _fucking_ amazing. Can I move?”

 

“Roman you fucking _prepped_ me for almost forty-five minutes, I’m probably gonna’ die if you don’t move.” Baron managed to say, making Roman laugh and nod.

 

Then Baron was being _fucked_ , fast and deep but not _rough_ but still _good_ , making him moan into the pillow, making Roman’s eyes darken.

 

“Mm, you _like_ that, you like my cock in you, huh?” Roman asked, hands firm on Baron’s thighs as he thrust into him. “Oughta’ do it more often, you think?”

 

“ _God_ yes, yes, please-!” Baron panted, not even caring how dumb he must look _rocking_ back onto another man’s cock, how pitiful he must sound. “I love it, I love it, oh _fuck_ _Roman_ - _!_ ”

 

“ _Yes_.” Roman snarled, wrapping his arms around Baron’s stomach and practically _humping_ him, hips crushed to Baron’s ass and pressing his cock _deep_. “You like getting _fucked_ , don’t you, you _love_ getting pounded into the fucking mattress, letting someone else take care of you, isn’t it fucking _nice_ Baron?” Roman rambled hotly in his ear and Baron couldn’t help the wanton sound that fought free. “That’s right, _that’s_ right, who’s my fucking _man?_ Who _needs_ this cock?”

 

“It’s me, f _-uck_ it’s me Roman it’s me please I’m gonna’ come, I need to come make me come–” Baron was vaguely aware that he’d crossed the threshold of _way too fucking loud_ but Roman didn’t shush him, didn’t hold him back in the slightest.

 

“You can tell everyone on this fucking _floor_ who you belong to, who’s _fucking_ you, I don’t mind.” Roman snapped his hips up _hard_ , starting with these harsh, _deep_ bucks of his cock that had Baron’s body fucking _quaking_. “Mm, I don’t mind, why the fuck would I? You’re the best I’ve ever had. The _best_.” Roman leaned as far forward as he could, breath ghosting over Baron’s ear. “Can’t wait for _you_ to fuck _me_.”

 

Baron gritted his teeth, release beckoning with every one of those _nice_ fucking thrusts, with every heated word that fell from Roman’s lips. “Fuck Roman, can I t-touch myself? _Please_ , I just-” Baron’s plea vanished from his brain as Roman fisted his cock, the hard work his own hips were doing making Baron fuck his hand with every motion. Baron cried out, his breath coming in sharp gasps while Roman jerked him off.

 

“You gonna’ come, Baron? You gonna’ come for me? Gonna’ shoot your load all over your stomach, fuckin’ coat your own belly and _show me_ how much you like this cock in you?” Roman asked, his jaw clenching when Baron bit down on the pillow. “That’s right, you fuck back onto me, you _take_ your goddamn orgasm, fuck those fucking hips back at me– _ah_ , fuck Baron, _fuck!_ ”

 

Baron had started to come, rolling his hips and working his cock frantically in Roman’s hand. Roman _growled_ and tightened his grip, giving Baron a little extra to work with and his release was hot and slick on his stomach and Roman _didn’t_ _stop_ moving his hand. Baron fucking _whimpered_ , body needy and aching and oh _God_ Roman was coming in him, cock rubbing his spot _just right_ and Baron _knew_ he was too loud, knew he was coming dry but he didn’t fucking care because Roman was _just_ as loud, just as desperate and it was so _different_ from the other night.

 

Roman finally came to a stop, his whole body trembling. Baron could feel him shaking against him. He had to swallow a few times before he could ask whether Roman was alright.

 

“Yeah.” Roman slowly withdrew his cock, wrapping his arms around Baron’s stomach again and pressing a kiss to the tattoos on his shoulder blades. He was _still_ shaking though, and even through his post ‘ _holy fuck_ ’ haze, Baron was worried.

 

“Big dog?” He rasped, urging Roman to lay down on his back beside him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing really, I just… _wow_. Never uh, never enjoyed it quite that much.” Roman admitted. “I almost passed out for a second, _fuck_ you’re dangerous.”

 

Baron’s worry faded into embarrassment and pride in equal amounts. He was _pretty_ sure his face was red. “Yeah? Think maybe we have a chance?” He asked teasingly.

 

“I think I might fucking love you, actually.” Roman said it almost defensively, like a challenge. Like he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of Baron’s lungs.

 

“R…Really?” Baron queried finally. Roman turned his head to look at him, nodding.

 

“Yeah. I uh…well. Yes. Baron, I want to be with you for a very long time. If you’re uh, interested, of course.” And if possessive, stern Roman Reigns was a turn on, then shy, awkwardly-confessing-his-feelings Roman Reigns was a wet fucking _dream_.

 

Baron, in his haste to agree, to kiss Roman until he could taste the joy in his fucking _soul_ , accidentally knocked their noses together. “ _Fuck!_ ” Baron cupped his freshly-bleeding nose, flopping onto his back while Roman snorted with laughter. “Fug _you_ Reigns, you cand just say all that and ged away wid id! Ged be a fuggin’ towel.” Baron growled, trying to keep from bleeding on the bedspread.

 

Roman, obviously a merciful individual, obliged Baron once his laughter had abated and soon they were both sitting up on the edge of the bed, Baron with a fresh towel pressed to his nose. “I love you too, you know.” Baron mumbled. “Thank you.”

 

“I think we’re going to be pretty good at taking care of each other.” Roman put an arm around Baron’s shoulders, tugging the taller man into a one-armed hug. “It’s kind of weird to be able to say that to someone. _I love you_.” He seemed to be testing the phrase.

 

“I love you.” Baron replied. It did feel strange, but in a good way. _Surreal_.

 

“I love you?”

 

“I love _you_.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Also fuck you.”

 

“ _Love_ you.”

 

“Nah, _definitely_ fuck you. Okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Love you.”


End file.
